


Countdown

by JoanWilder, Traw



Category: The Streets of San Francisco
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blackmail, Crime, Gen, Kidnapping, Male Friendship, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 39,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoanWilder/pseuds/JoanWilder, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traw/pseuds/Traw
Summary: He was dying and death was agonizingly painful and slow. Like sand through the hourglass, Steve's life is slowly trickling away - can Mike save his partner in time before that last grain of sand drops?





	1. Chapter 1

Pain! It was everywhere! It was alive! And it was clawing and chewing at his insides, like a thousand meat eating ants, trying to eat him alive. He was unable to stop the agonized groan that slipped between his lips as he rolled over onto his side and drew his knees up to his chest in a desperate attempt to relieve his unending pain. He could feel his own hot tears trickle down his face as he turned his head and tried to press his hot, flushed face against the cold cement floor.

He was no longer bound. He resisted the urge to laugh as the realization flittered through his thoughts. There was no need to restrain him anymore. There was no fear that he was going to escape. He was dying and death was agonizingly painful and slow. He whimpered as he drew in a shallow breath as his ribs screamed in protest and closed his eyes, "I'm sorry Mike… I tried…" He breathed as he allowed himself to slide into beckoning darkness, "I really tried …"

* * *

 24 hours earlier…

Stepping out of the elevator at close to midnight, Mike Stone strolled down the hallway toward the office of Homicide. He and Steve were burning the midnight oil working on a mountain of paperwork that needed to be completed by morning. Much to his surprise, Steve had been the one who insisted they stay late and work on it so that they could relax when they came back in the next day. The tall lieutenant shook his head in amusement as he wondered just how early Steve would arrive tomorrow morning.

However, the smile slowly turned into a frown as soon as he noticed a small trail of burgundy drops leading down the hall. It started as a few drops but the further he walked, he knew there was no question that there was a trail. Mike knelt down before dipping his fingertip into one of the small droplets. The droplet felt tacky and sticky as he slowly raised his finger to smell the half dried substance. He was alarmed when he could identify the familiar coppery sweet scent as belonging to that of blood. Quickly unholstering his gun, the older man immediately rose and walked down the hall with his back pressed against the wall, the gun held tightly in front of him as he silently followed the trail of blood.

He paused just long enough to hope that his worst nightmare was not about to come true. His heart pounded in his chest as he opened doors and quickly stepped inside, his eyes scanning the interior for any threat. The hall was empty, and he followed the trail of blood until it veered off into a doorway. Horror cleaved at his soul when the trail went into Homicide.

"Steve..." Mike breathed, half in prayer and half in horror as he tried to look into the Homicide office.

Seeing no movement within, Mike swallowed as he crouched, holding his gun ready for any trouble that might be lurking within while he carefully approached the door. Pushing it open, he exploded inside, shoulder rolling across the floor before coming to his feet behind the cover of a desk. Cautiously lifting his head above the desk, he quickly scanned his surroundings for any threats or sign of his partner as he called loudly, "Steve?"

The office remained eerily still and silent as he slowly rose to his feet and searched each office.

Once satisfied that the offices were empty of any potential threats, he reholstered his gun as he walked back to the middle of the office, drawn to the burgundy puddle near Steve's desk, the paper, files and pens scattered haphazardly about and the floor that marked the end of the trail of blood. He slowly looked around the office, which he now regarded as a crime scene. Running his hand over his hair, he directed his steely blue gaze at the empty desk of his partner, when realization hit hard.

Steve was missing!

The silence was broken by the ringing of his phone and he jumped, quickly stepping toward the desk and picking up the receiver, hoping that the caller was Steve with some type of logical explanation of what had happened and reassurances that he was safe. Mike answered briskly, "Stone."

"Ah, Stone." An unfamiliar female voice quietly breathed into his ear.

"Who is this?" Mike growled as his hand tightened on the receiver.

"Who I am does not matter," the voice purred softly. "But what does matter is what we can do for each other. I have something you want and you, Stone, have something I want - so let's make a trade."

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Ahh, Stone."

Steve stopped struggling against the tight ropes that bound him to the hard, straight back wooden chair, warily watching the tall, slim woman who was standing only a few feet in front of him. She turned and smiled sweetly at him as she spoke softly into the phone. Stepping closer to him, she gently trailed her fingers down the side of his face and grinned as he pulled his head back from her light touch. He was unable to stifle the soft moan that escaped as she continued almost seductively.

"Who I am does not matter, but what does matter is what we can do for each other. I have something you want and you, Stone, have something I want - so let's make a trade."

He was unable to hear Mike's reply, but his chest tightened as the young woman looked down at him. Her fingers trailed down the side of his face and neck until they hovered just above the small bloody hole in his shoulder.

"What type of trade?" she crooned into the phone. "Let's start with something easy, like Keller gets to live for two more hours, and you get to resign from the police department!"

"No! Mike, don't-" Steve's desperate shouted plea to Mike was abruptly cut off by a piercing scream as her fingers dug deep into his wounded shoulder. White hot pain flared from his shoulder, gradually spreading to his chest and arm.

She licked her lips in triumph as she heard Mike gasp in horror and his desperate shout of 'Steve!' echo in her ear. "You have two hours to resign and empty your desk," she ordered coldly as she stepped back to wipe her bloodied fingers on her jeans. She continued while the young inspector's head lolled limply down onto his chest as he passed out from the pain.

"And don't think for a moment you can tip anyone off as to why you are resigning or to Keller's kidnapping. If you even try, even whisper it or pass a note to anyone warning them of what is going on, I swear I will send him back to you in little pieces, one piece at a time. Don't think for a moment I won't know if you do; I am watching every move you make. Two hours!"

Slamming the phone down, she glanced at the unconscious inspector before her. _What a coward_ , she thought. He had run away before the fun could really start. Leaning down, she snarled, seizing a handful of wavy brown hair and hurling his head up, smiling at the soft groan of pain. "I am going to destroy you and him, my friend, but before you die, you are going to bring him down for me!"

Clutching the now forgotten receiver in his hand, Mike stared down at the dark drying puddle of blood on the floor at his feet, his partner's agonized scream echoing continuously in his head. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he heard the dire softly spoken warning over and over again. _Let's start with something easy, like Keller gets to live for two more hours, and you get to resign from the police department! You have two hours to resign and empty your desk. And don't think for a moment you can tip anyone off to why you are resigning or to Keller's kidnapping. If you even try, even whisper it or pass a note to anyone warning them of what is going on, I swear I will send him back to you in little pieces, one piece at a time. Don't think for a moment I won't know if you do; I am watching every move you make. Two hours!_

"Mike!"

Roy Devitt's worried voice from somewhere behind him startled the lieutenant out of his shock, and he spun around to find his friend standing in the office doorway, his gun drawn in anticipation of trouble.

Lowering his weapon, Roy stepped closer as he studied the pinched face and haunted eyes before him. "Mike, are you okay? I saw the blood in the hall and thought…" He paused a moment as he glanced quickly around the room, his eyes falling onto the drying puddle of blood at Mike's feet before they slowly rose back up to his blanched face. "What happened?"

Quickly placing the receiver back on the cradle, Mike crossed the room to where his colleague stood watching him closely. He pulled out his badge, ignoring the look of surprise on the other man's face. "I'm quitting," he announced without preamble as he pushed his gun and his badge into Roy's hand and rushed on, praying his voice would remain strong. "You're in charge. I will inform the Chief of my decision."

His brow furrowing at the items in his hand, Roy looked up in confusion as Mike pushed past him, heading toward the door. "Mike? What's going on? What's happened? Where's Steve?"

His questions remained unanswered as his friend raced out of the Homicide office and out of the lieutenant's sight. Still stunned at the unexpected turn of events, Roy turned and stared back around the office as he tried to make sense of the situation. As his cop instincts kicked in, he swore that he was going to get to the bottom of this, whatever it was.

* * *

Mike stepped into Captain Olsen's office, a searing rage overwhelming him as his mind supplied images of what must be happening to Steve right now, at what was going on to make his partner scream like that. His frustration was at an all time high; for the life of him he couldn't recognize the woman's voice. What the hell did she want? Who was she? Regardless, he swore to himself he would find out.

For now the main thing was keeping Steve safe; he couldn't afford to take any risks with his partner's life. He would play by her rules for now, and if that meant resigning from the department, then so be it. He was willing to do to it if it meant Steve was going to be allowed to live for another two hours. Time was against him.

Sarah, Olsen's secretary, looked up from the notes she was typing as the door swung open and Mike entered with the speed and ferocity of a category five hurricane.

"Is he in?" he asked succinctly, heading toward Rudy's office door.

"Umm …yes," the small, petite woman answered, hurriedly rising to her feet. "But he's extremely busy today, Lieutenant. You can't go in there," she warned as she tried to catch up with Mike before he reached her boss' door.

"He'll see me," Mike answered over his shoulder as he reached for the door handle and opened the door.

Rudy looked up from the report he was reading as his office door swung open and Mike entered his office with Sarah only a few steps behind.

"I'm sorry, sir," The older secretary apologized nervously. "I tried to tell the lieutenant that you were busy, but…"

Looking up at the older woman, Rudy waved his hand in dismissal as he said softly, "It's okay, Sarah." He waited until she silently nodded and turned and left the office, closing the door behind her before he turned his attention to the tall man standing in front of his desk. "Well, Mike, you better have a good explanation for why you just barged your way into my office unannounced…"

"I'm resigning from the Department, Sir. My resignation is effective immediately."

"Resigning?" Rudy asked, stunned at Mike's surprise announcement. "Why?"

"Personal reasons I can't get into at the moment, Sir. Devitt is totally up to date on our current cases; he would make an ideal leader for the team. I'm sorry I can't explain my reasons for my resignation more than I have, but I have to go," Mike concluded before he turned and hurried toward the door.

"Mike!" Rudy ordered as Mike open the door. The lieutenant momentarily paused with his hand resting on the door and, for a brief moment, Rudy believed that Mike would turn around and explain what was going on. But instead, he left the office without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

Uncertain of his next move, Mike hurried across the lobby as he headed towards the front doors of the station. He jumped in surprise upon hearing his name called and turned to find Duty Desk Sergeant Ron Mason holding out the phone.

"Hang on, Lieutenant Stone, you have a phone call. The woman said she needs to speak to you and only you urgently."

Crossing quickly to the front counter, Mike forced a small smile and thanked Ron as he accepted the phone. Turning his back to the desk and stepping as far away from it as he could with the phone, he snapped, "Stone."

"Ahh, Stone, it's good to see you can follow orders. And you didn't even try and tip off either Devitt in the bullpen or Olsen in his office…I am impressed. And you just gave your partner two more hours of life. But this time let's make it a little more interesting, shall we?" the now familiar voice whispered in his ear.

Glancing over his shoulder to reassure himself that Mason was busy at the counter directing an officer to take an uncooperative and very drunk man into the holding cells to sober up, Mike quickly turned back around and hissed softly into the phone, "I did what you wanted, now let Keller go!"

"Shut up, Stone, and listen. Unless you want me to kill your partner now?" He heard her laugh before her voice hardened. "Of course you don't, do you? So shut up and listen! If you want Keller to stay alive and in one piece, then you better get to the payphones at the ferry terminal. Once you get there, one of the phones will begin to ring. You will have just one minute to answer it to receive further instructions. If you don't answer the phone within that minute, Keller will pay the penalty. If anyone else answers that phone while it is ringing, Keller will pay the penalty. You have twenty-five minutes. If you are late, even just by a minute, your partner will die."

"Wait! Wait!" Mike demanded softly. "Before I carry out any more of your demands, I want proof that Steve Keller is still alive!"

The woman hesitated as she glanced down at the unconscious inspector, still tied to the chair in front of her. She studied his blood-soaked shirt and bruised face for a brief moment before she smiled and picked up the Polaroid camera, snapping a quick photo. "You will be given the proof of life that you want once you reach the payphone, Stone. Now you have twenty-five minutes and not one second more."

Hanging up the phone, she smiled coldly as she walked across to Steve and gently began to trace the side of his face with her fingers. Looking up at the man standing silently behind him, she smiled. "It's time to start having some real fun. I want everything prepared for Stone's next phone call."

* * *

Hanging up the phone, Roy sighed as he picked it up again and began to dial the second familiar number, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor while he waited and prayed for Steve to answer.

"What's happened?" Norm asked worriedly, hurrying into the bullpen, reholstering his gun, and looking around, shocked to find the blood trail he had been following led to the drying puddle of blood near Steve's desk. He hurried across to Mike's office where Roy was standing next to Mike's desk with his back to the bullpen while he was on the phone.

"That's what I want to know!" Roy and Norm spun around toward the door as Olsen entered the bullpen and looked around. "Stone just came charging into my office a few minutes ago and gave me his verbal resignation effective immediately, but he refused to tell me why."

Looking around before he turned his attention back at his two Homicide officers, he waved his hand toward the blood on the floor. "But by the looks of this place, am I right in suspecting whatever is going on with Stone has something to do with whatever has happened here?"

"I think so," Roy answered, turning back toward the bullpen and Steve's desk as he began to fill Olsen in. "I followed the trail of blood outside the squad room that led into the bullpen and to Steve's desk when I arrived this morning. When I entered, Mike was standing here with the phone in his hand. When I asked him what had happened and where Steve was, he gave me his gun and badge, told me he was quitting, and left before I could stop him."

"Are we sure that Keller was even in early this morning and that the blood could be his?" Rudy asked as he studied the burgundy puddle near the Steve's desk and blood splattered papers, files and pens that littered Steve's desk and the surrounding floor.

"Just as I was leaving about eleven last night, I heard Steve suggest to Mike that they kept working on the reports they were doing and burn the midnight oil so they could get some reports done and out of the way. I think Steve was hoping that they could have an easy day today and he could get off early. I know he has just starting to date a new lady who he is really serious about," Norm interrupted as he found himself unable to stop staring at the ominous scene around Steve's desk. "They were both still in the office when I left and Steve's car is still in the parking lot where he parked it when he got to work yesterday. I noticed it when I arrived this morning."

"So it's possible that this blood is Keller's, and we could have a kidnapping on our hands." Rudy frowned.

Roy nodded. "I've rung the lab boys; they're on their way up."

"How the hell did someone get in here, attack and injure a cop before kidnapping him, and nobody notices a thing?" Rudy demanded, turning and glaring in frustration at the two Homicide officers before turning and looking back at Steve's desk. "And where the hell was Stone when all this was going on?"

Norm shrugged as he exchanged glances with his lieutenant. Roy suggested, "Maybe Steve decided to stay and work on reports after Mike decided to go home. They have both been working long hours. I'm surprised Steve even had the energy to suggest burning the midnight oil. If Steve was subdued and grabbed in the early hours of this morning, all his kidnappers would have to do is take him down the fire escape and out into the parking lot and nobody would have seen them."

"So we can assume whoever phoned Mike also kidnapped Steve," Rudy surmised as they moved back into Mike's office as the lab boys entered the bullpen and began to process the scene. "And the call to Mike was the kidnapper's demands."

"Which must have included that he resigns from the department." Roy frowned. "And that could mean this is personal…"

"Or somebody Mike and Steve have put away looking for revenge," Norm added.

Roy nodded before he looked across at his inspector and ordered, "Norm, check if anyone we have put away has gotten out on parole and the prison has forgotten to tell us. Also get with uniform; I want to know the whereabouts and alibis of anyone who have made threats against Steve or Mike for the time when Steve went missing. Also check with the switchboard girls. I want to know if Mike received any calls before he left this morning and if so, was the caller female or male. "

"Will do," Norm answered before he turned and hurried out of the office.

"So how do you want to play it?" Roy asked as he turned to his captain.

"Let's let Stone take the lead," Rudy answered, running his hand slowly over his gray thinning hair. He turned back to stare at Mike's desk, trying hard to get into the mind of the upset man who had handed him his resignation less than half an hour before. "If Keller has been kidnapped, and Mike is following the kidnapper's orders, he's not going to risk Keller's safety by telling us what has happened in case someone overhears him, but knowing Mike, he will leave us a trail to follow. We just have to find the crumbs he is dropping."

* * *

Looking angrily through the windshield as the LTD skidded to a violent stop in the parking lot of the ferry terminal, Mike quickly glanced down at his watch. Traffic had been unusually heavy and the fifteen-minute drive to the terminal had taken twenty minutes. He had considered using his lights and siren to reach the terminal faster but the idea was quickly squashed because he dared not to draw any more attention to himself. He knew he was taking a huge risk of using his unmarked police car, but he needed to leave some sort of trail. Quickly exiting the car, he slammed the door closed behind him, not bothering to lock it as he turned and ran into the terminal toward the area where several payphones were located.

Running through the terminal, he glanced down at his watch again; his heart rose into his throat when he saw he had less than a minute to reach the payphones. Sprinting toward the payphones, he heard one of them begin to ring. Shouldering his way through the small group of tourists who were crowded near and around the phones, he ignored their indignant complaints and protests as he quickly reached the phone.

He released the breath he had not even realized he had been holding as he picked up the phone and answered breathlessly, "I'm here."

"That was close, Stone. Next time I won't be as generous with my time," he heard the familiar voice whisper in his ear.

"Ok, I'm here but before I do anything else, I want proof that Steve is still alive," Mike demanded, his hand tightening around the receiver as he tried to ignore the soft-veiled threat.

"Reach underneath the phone, Stone. Underneath is a photo of your partner that was taken less than half an hour ago."

Quickly reaching beneath the wooden board the payphone rested on, Mike felt his fingers brush against a small, flat, rectangular object taped to the wood, and he quickly pulled it free. Hot bile rose in the back of his throat, and the blood drained from his face when he turned the photo over and found himself staring at Steve tied to a chair, the front of his shirt soaked in blood. "How…how do I know that he is still alive?" he managed to choke out through his tightened throat.

"He's alive," he heard her answer cockily before she added coldly, 'but if you insist in more proof, here it is."

Mike jumped as he heard Steve cry out in pain before her voice took on a dangerous, no-nonsense tone. "You have your proof that he is alive! Now I want you to go back to the parking lot. When you get there, you will see a red Chrysler Valiant Station Wagon parked near your LTD. Now we both know we can't have you tipping off your friends with the police radio or them being able to keep a close covert eye on your unmarked police car. And here you thought I wouldn't know you were still driving it. Very clever, Stone, but not clever enough. I did warn you I am watching your every move. So you are going to change cars. The station wagon's unlocked, and the key is in the ignition. I want you to get into it and drive."

"Drive where?" Mike asked, frowning.

"The instructions are in the car," the woman answered coldly. "You have five minutes to get to the car and start driving. Your time starts now!"

Mike heard the call disconnect in his ear and he quickly hung up before he turned and ran back toward the parking lot, darting around tourists and other people who got in his way.

Reaching the parking lot a couple of minutes later, he paused breathlessly as he scanned the cars parked there. Spotting the red station wagon parked close by, he ran to it. He was not surprised to find it was unlocked. This bitch had meticulously planned everything! Quickly opening the door, he slid inside. Glancing down, he saw the key in the ignition as he had been told it would be. Reaching for the key, he froze when he felt the chilling, unmistakable sensation of a gun barrel suddenly pressed against the back of his neck. A voice behind him then ordered coldly, "You're going to turn left when we pull out of the parking lot. Now drive!"


	4. Chapter 4

Norm came wandering into the office, a look of confusion plastered on his face.

"You got a problem, Haseejian?" Roy asked upon seeing the perplexing look.

"Well, I dunno. I was just down in the garage, and Mike and Steve's service car isn't there."

Roy looked at him, puzzled. "So? Mike probably has it."

"Well, I'm kinda hoping he does. I mean, Steve doesn't, so Mike has to. If we're looking for breadcrumbs he's dropping, the car could be a big one."

His eyes lighting up, Roy grabbed the receiver of Mike's desk phone. "Great point. I'll get out an APB right away."

* * *

An hour later, Roy got a call that patrols spotted Mike's car in the parking lot by the ferry terminal. He grabbed Norm and the two raced down there. Upon their arrival, they saw two black and whites sitting around the LTD.

"There's no sign that anything happened in this car, Sir," a uniformed officer said, answering Roy's question about what the scene looked like.

Just then, two more officers came running up. When they saw the lieutenant and the sergeant, they announced, "We looked all over the terminal. There's no sign of Lieutenant Stone. He must have left."

"How do you suppose he did that?" Norm asked aloud. "He walk away?"

Roy crossed his arms as he looked into the windows of the LTD. "Maybe he was taken away in another car. Look," he continued, glancing around at all the officers standing in his proximity. "Let's split up and start asking people if they saw him by the car or in the terminal. Someone had to have seen something we can use to put some sort of timeline together."

* * *

Glancing into the rear view mirror at the man who sat behind him, holding the gun against the base of his skull, Mike frowned as he turned onto the narrow side street that dead ended only a mile down the road. "You sure? This road leads nowhere."

"Shut up and pull over right here," the man ordered, pressing his gun harder against Mike's head and adding softly, "And keep your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them."

Sighing, Mike stopped the car as he was ordered, keeping his hands on the steering wheel as he glanced in the rear view mirror at his captor and asked, "Okay we're stopped, now what?"

"Now it's time for you to say goodnight!" The man laughed as he raised his gun and slammed it hard on the back of Mike's head, grinning as the lieutenant groaned and slumped forward onto the steering wheel. Tucking his gun into the waistband of his pants, he opened the car door and quickly climbed out of the back seat of the car.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs before opening the driver's door and grabbing Mike's arms, handcuffing them behind his back. He then roughly pushed Mike across to the passenger side of the car and climbed in. Glancing at the unconscious man slumped on the seat beside him, he smiled; everything was going to plan just as she had told him it would. Confident that the cop would not regain consciousness before they reached their destination, he started the car and did a U-turn, scraping the side fender of the car against the brick building before driving back in the direction they had just come, turning right at the corner.

* * *

Thanking the man whom he had been talking to, Norm turned and waited for Roy to join him next to the payphones. "Well?' he asked as Roy reached him.

"Several witnesses I spoke to said they saw Mike speed into the parking lot before getting out of his car and running toward the terminal. Then I guess he ran back out and got into some red car. Drove off after that, but no one was sure which direction. Most who saw the car said it was some type of station wagon. Chrysler maybe. You?"

Norm looked down at his notepad. "I got some folks who saw Mike run straight to this row of payphones here, pushing his way through a crowd. Then apparently he answered one that was ringing before racing back out of here and to the parking lot. Sounds like he was a huge hurry."

"That would explain why Mike left the car unlocked." Roy agreed.

"Whoever is behind this probably knew that after Mike's strange behavior of resigning from the Department, we would track him somehow. So to stop us from being able to do that, they made him get in another car."

"We need to get the description of this red station wagon on the air, maybe run it through DMV," Roy said softly.

"Was there anyone else in this station wagon? Was Mike driving or was someone else?"

"Not that anyone saw. But we got a partial plate. California PRZ 1 something something. No witness got the last two numbers. Someone claimed they saw a large dent on the front passenger door."

"At least it's something. I'll go contact dispatch." Norm trotted off toward his car and plopped down on the front seat, grabbing the mic and calling Headquarters. He then requested wants, warrants, and registration on a red station wagon, no year, possible Chrysler with the matching partial number plates. He waited several moments before dispatch returned with the information he wanted, confirming the car was indeed a Chrysler Valiant and was registered to a local business man, Brian Hudson. Norm scribbled down the address then placed an APB out for the Chrysler, adding that if the vehicle was sighted, it was not to be intercepted. Instead, Homicide was to be contacted with its location. Norm waited for dispatch to confirm the order before he disconnected the call and turned to Roy, who had joined him at the car.

"Let's get back to the station and see just what we can find out about Brian Hudson and any connection he might have to Steve or Mike."

"I'll have the garage come and get Mike's car and take it to the lab. It's a long shot, but we might get some prints or something," Roy said before running around the car and getting into the passenger's side.

* * *

"How did it go?"

"It went without a hitch, just how you said it would. He didn't even put up a fight."

"What about the car? Are the boys dumping it?"

"Yeah. I told them to make sure they wipe it clean before they do."

The soft voices were coming from somewhere behind him. Mike swallowed hard and tried to ignore the pain that throbbed in the back of his head as he struggled to remember how he had gotten here. Slowly, the memories returned of finding Steve missing. Snapping his eyes opened, he found himself staring at his missing partner who was tied with thick ropes to a chair directly in front of him. The front of Steve's shirt was drenched with blood from a bullet wound in his shoulder.

"Steve!" The shocked horrified gasp slipped from his lips as he began to struggle against the ropes that bound him tightly to the chair.

Steve slowly lifted his head and Mike swallowed hard as he found himself staring at haunted look in his partner's eyes. Steve blinked and looked towards him.

"Ah, nice of you to finally wake up and join us, Stone." The soft, now familiar female voice greeted him from behind. "I was starting to think you were going to sleep the day away."

He turned and stared at the woman standing behind him, his eyes opening wide in recognition. "Angela!"

She stepped closer and gently rubbed the pistol down Mike's jawline as she smiled coldly, pure hate shining in her eyes. "Yes, Mike, it's me!"


	5. Chapter 5

As Roy and Norm walked through the front door of the Hall of Justice, Ron Mason looked up from his desk and saw them coming in his direction. "Hey, Fellas?" he shouted out to them.

Roy pointed to himself and mouthed the word 'us', to which Ron nodded. The two Homicide inspectors approached the desk sergeant's desk.

"Heard you found Lieutenant Stone's car at the ferry terminal," he started.

Nodding, Norm responded with, "Yeah, just wish we would have found him also."

"Well, I got something that might help. It may also be nothing, but I'll let you guys determine that. Before the lieutenant ran out of here, he got a phone call here at the front desk. I called him back and he answered it. Now, I was temporarily distracted by a drunk and didn't overhear the conversation, but whatever that call was, it caused him to get very, I dunno, nervous I guess. He just looked like someone was giving him very bad news. After the call, he dropped the receiver on the desk instead of hanging it up, and then he bolted for the garage exit."

Roy and Norm turned at the same time toward each other. The Roy turned back to Ron as he pulled out his notebook. "You answered this call originally?"

"Uh huh," the desk sergeant responded.

"You know who it was or was there anything particularly interesting about the person?"

Thinking for a moment, Ron eventually looked at the two and said, "Well, yeah. It was a woman's voice, but the thing is, she sounded kinda familiar. Like, I know I've heard that voice before, but I can't say who it is, or where I know it from."

Norm's eyes grew large during Ron's description. "A woman? A woman is behind this?"

Roy half rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Norm, they're letting women out of the house these days."

"That's not...not what I meant," he replied, stammering over a decent response. "I just mean that, you know, if a woman's behind this, it could get ugly quick. You know how impatient and emotional they can be."

This time, both men gave him shaming looks.

"What?"

Shaking his head, Roy turned back to Ron. "If you ever do remember where you think you know the voice from, let me know."

"Will do," he answered, turning away quickly as the phone rang.

Norm and Roy took their leave and headed for the elevators. As the two stood and waited for the car to return to the first floor, Roy looked over at his sergeant. "You know, in your own stupid way, you may have a point."

"I do?" he answered, a little more surprised than he intended.

Roy nodded as the elevator doors opened. "If this woman Mike talked to really is the one behind everything, it very well could be a revenge thing. And you're right; it very well could escalate quickly, especially if he or Steve don't do what she wants. We need to find this woman - and fast."

* * *

"Sir, the owner of the station wagon is here. Should I show him in?" Bill Tanner asked his temporary boss Roy Devitt, who had taken up residence in Mike's office.

Looking up from a piece of paper, Roy nodded. He then sat back and watched Bill show a well-dressed middle-aged man with graying hair into the office, indicating with a wave of the hand that he should have a seat in front of the desk. After he sat, Roy introduced himself and the man, Brian Hudson, followed suit.

"Have you found my car?" he inquired while fidgeting in the seat.

Roy shook his head and leaned forward, crossing his arms over the desk. "Not yet, Sir, but we're working on it."

"Oh. Then, uh...why am I here?"

"We just need to check on a few things." He glanced down at the desk. "This says you reported it stolen late last night. Is that correct?"

Hudson slowly nodded.

"And it was stolen from your office parking lot?"

He slowly nodded again, still fidgeting. "Um, yeah. I was, uh, working late, and when I came out around ten, the car was gone."

"Hmm," Roy muttered under his breath, not saying anything. He then sat back and watched the man dart his eyes uncomfortably all over the room, adjust his tie a dozen times, and shift his weight in the chair at least every minute.

"You see, Mr. Hudson, we have a bit of a problem here. Your business recently installed cameras in the parking lot after a rash of vandalisms. Were you aware of that?"

Hudson took on a deer-in-the-headlights look.

"A couple officers had a look at that film this morning and by all accounts, your car never was in that parking lot. In fact, it can be seen leaving the lot around 5:30. Did you drive it out? Your boss said you left around the same time?"

"Well...I came back and left again. There are certain parts of the parking lot where there aren't any cameras, and I parked in one of those."

Roy almost started laughing. Instead, he kept his demeanor and looked Mr. Hudson right in the eyes, which made the highly-nervous man squirm again. "You see, your car was involved in a crime this morning, and since you seem awfully...agitated, I'm thinking you had something to do with it."

Hudson sat still as a poker. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. "Look, I know it's morally wrong, but illegal?! We weren't even in the car! And it wasn't this morning, just last night! And a couple nights before that...but honest, I…"

"You what, Mr. Hudson?"

Feeling the pressure coming down on him, the man sighed and looking pleadingly into Roy's eyes. "You can't tell my wife this! As far as she's concerned, I was at work late and the car was stolen from my office."

"Mr. Hudson, I don't think you appreciate the trouble you're facing…"

"Please! I beg you! My whole life is on the line here!"

"You're right; it is," Roy nodded. "Life in prison."

"For adultery?!"

Everything came to a standstill. "What?" Roy groaned.

"Looking down at his lap, Hudson went into his speal. "You see...I've sorta got this thing going with my boss' wife. Been going on about a couple months now. We meet every few nights at a motel in the Tenderloin. Shitty little place, but we don't really notice, ya know?"

This time, it was Roy who sighed.

"Anyway, my wife thinks I work late those nights, and she has to keep thinking that! She can't find out just because some tweaker stole my car!"

"So that's really where the car was taken from, a motel?" Roy grabbed the report and started jotting down the new information.

"Yeah, over on Ellis. Came out last night about a quarter after nine and the car was gone. Haven't seen it since. Whatever happened to it after that, I had no involvement in, I swear!"

Since the man's coloring had vanished and he looked like he wanted to cry, Roy cut him loose, knowing full well all he was guilty of was being morally corrupt. The man's waste of his time had angered him, but not as much as the fact that he was now staring at another dead end.

Just then, Norm popped his head in and announced, "Patrol just found the station wagon!"

* * *

As she slowly walked behind the chair where Stone's young partner was tied up, Angela's eyes lit up with satisfaction, never leaving Mike's surprised face. She smiled. "Nice to see you remember me, Mike. It's been what? Ten, eleven years? No wait, silly me, it's been thirteen years."

She looked down at Steve as she ran her fingers through his hair, her smile growing when he flinched away. Looking back up at Mike who was watching her warily, she said, "Thirteen long years since I last saw you in the courthouse when you stood up on that stand and destroyed our lives."

"I didn't destroy your lives, Angela. Shawn did that all on his own," Mike reminded her gently.

"You were the one who got up on that stand, and it was your evidence that got him sent away!"

"He was guilty, Angela," Mike said softly, tensing up as her fingers snagged a handful of Steve's hair.

"He was doing his job!" she hissed.

"He was accepting bribes," Mike reminded her firmly, "and falsifying evidence."

"He was trying to provide for his family! And you were his closest friend. You were supposed to watch his back not send him away to jail for ten years of his life like some common scumbag criminal that you grabbed off the streets!"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"You didn't have a choice? Oh, don't give me that! You had a choice, Mike; you had a choice to keep your mouth shut and look the other way. You could have protected Shawn, but you didn't! Instead of being a friend, you opened your mouth and got him sent to jail knowing it was a death sentence for a cop, but you didn't care, did you? All you cared about was carrying out your duty as a cop no matter who got hurt!" Angela growled through clenched teeth as her hold on Steve's hair grew tighter.

"Did you know he died in that hell hole?" Her hatred for the man whom once had been her husband's closest friend grew when she saw Mike's eyes widen with surprise and shock. "No, you didn't know!" she breathed softly as she glared at Mike. "Or is it you just didn't care?"

"Ang…"

"Well, Mike, either way it doesn't matter because I am going to destroy your life just as you destroyed Shawn's, mine, and the boys' lives! I have plans for you my friend, plans that will set not only myself and my boys up for life but also some of my friends here." She smiled as she nodded toward the man standing behind Mike's chair. "And when I am finished, you will discover just what kind of life you condemned Shawn to after you sent him to jail and to ensure your cooperation, well as you know, that's what Stevie-boy here is for."

"Don't…don't do anything…she says…Mike!"

Steve's desperate warning ended with a pain-filled gasp as Angela jerked his head back hard by the handful of hair she held. She snarled viciously into his bruised and battered face, "Say another word, Keller, and I will let the boys have a little more fun with you, sooner rather than later."

"No, Angela, leave him alone," Mike pleaded desperately, his heart beating painfully in his chest as Steve grimaced in pain. "Steve has nothing to do with any of this. Please, Angie, just let him go."

Allowing Steve's head to drop back down but still keeping her fingers entwined in his hair, she smiled as she looked back across at Mike, ignoring his pleas. Suddenly she asked, "How's your daughter, Mike? Jeannie, isn't it?"

Mike froze and Steve slowly lifted his head in surprise, the fear for Mike and Jeannie evident in his eyes as he stared at his partner.

Angela smiled and continued more softly, "Yes, Jeannie, that's her name. I remember her as a small child when Helen was still alive. She was such a pretty young girl; it was so horrible to see her lose her mother at such a young age. But no more horrible than my own sons losing their father when they were about the same age. She's away at college at the moment, isn't she?"

Her smile grew icy cold as Mike remained silent. "No, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to because I already know. It's her second year at Arizona State; she wants to be an architect. Not quite the profession I could envisage a young lady entering, but kids these days…"

"Don't you dare hurt her…" Mike growled, struggling to get free.

"Why Mike, you should know me better than that. I would never harm a hair on that child's head. Shame the same thing could not be said about her father." Angela grinned cruelly as she glanced down at her watch before looking back up at Mike and admonished him. "A caring father would never send his child such a cold, cruel letter - as the one she should be opening about now - telling her that he just discovered she isn't his daughter at all."

"Nooo…." Mike whispered, horrified that anyone, particularly a woman who was also a mother to two children, could ever send such a letter as she was describing.

"And that he doesn't want to have anything more to do with her. I am sure she will be shattered. But at least she will discover just what sort of person her father really is. And that's just the start." Angela laughed as Mike lunged forward, crashing heavily to the floor when the chair toppled over.

Nodding at the man who stood behind Mike's chair to sit him back up, she waited until she had Mike's attention again before she warned him softly, "Your daughter is just the beginning, Mike, if you don't do everything I tell you to."

She suddenly curled her fingers, grabbed a handful of Steve's hair, and yanked his head back violently, pressing the gun she still held hard against his head. This caused him to cry out in pain as she looked back coldly at Mike. "When I tell you, Keller is going to be the one who suffers, and if he dies before I am finished with you, your daughter will be next!"


	6. Chapter 6

Roy and Norm rolled up on what looked like a battleground. There were two fire trucks, half a dozen black and whites, and a large gaggle of bystanders gawking at what was left of an inferno.

"Oh...no, not that…" Roy groaned as Norm stopped the car. "Don't tell me this is the car we're looking for!"

"Well, they just said they found it, not what shape it was in," Norm said, no happier about the apparent situation than his boss.

Both men swiftly exited the car and, flashing their badges, got as close as the fire department would let them. Fortunately, what they saw was as pleasing as the sight could be in the situation. The only crispy part of the car was the front end, which took the engine and dash with it. Everything from the back seat on was wet but intact.

Speaking with the fire chief, he informed Roy that it appeared the fire was intentionally set but not long before they had gotten the call about it. A citizen, who was being interviewed by a patrol officer, had been the one to call it in. No one knew how long the car had been there.

Norm, who had been listening in, wandered over and began talking with some officers who had been at the scene longer. He asked if they had found anyone who had seen the car dumped or who had set fire to it. All officers told him that no one had seen a thing. Frustrated, he grumbled some curse words under his breath and went back to the car where Roy was now standing. The two stood in front of the half-burned and dripping car.

"Suppose there's anything left?" Norm asked.

"Who knows, but let's get the lab guys down here anyway."

After Norm left to call all the necessary reinforcements, Roy approached the car and started peering through the windows. The front seat was absent of anything other than charred remains and water, so he shifted to the back seat where, at first, it looked the same, but then something barely sticking out from under the seat caught his eye. After having a nearby firefighter open one of the back doors for him, he reached in and grabbed what turned out to be Mike's fedora.

"I'll be damned," he muttered, though it really wasn't a clue to anything. Looking it over, it just seemed to him that, in a possible struggle with his captor, Mike lost his hat. Though in some odd way, it gave him a shred of hope.

For the next half hour, while continuing to look over the car and talk to anyone who may have been witness to even the slightest detail, Roy held the hat in his hands. He figured if he kept it close, it would mean Mike was coming back to retrieve it.

Norm met him back at the car, and they quickly compared notes - what little they had anyway. After closing his notepad and putting it back in his pocket, Norm finally looked down at the object Roy was holding. "Is that Mike's hat?" he asked.

Nodding, Roy answered, "Found it in the back seat. Figured I'd save it for him."

"You know what you should do? You should have the lab boys take a look at it. Might be a clue in there."

Roy gave Norm a highly incredulous look. "A clue? From a hat? You do realize that you can't get fingerprints off fabric, right?"

"I know, but maybe there's some trace of something on it, like dirt, or pollen or something. You know, something that's only indigenous to a small area of town. Charlie could find it and narrow down a search area."

"You've been talking to Keller, haven't you?" Roy asked, chuckling. "He's filling your head with all that new fandangled science stuff."

"So? Admit it; it's better than nothing."

Looking down at the clean hat, Roy shrugged and agreed. "Alright. What the hell."

* * *

Mike saw Angela glance up and look past him as a door somewhere behind him opened. He heard at least two more people enter the room.

Still holding the fistful of Steve's hair as she held the gun hard against his head, she asked, "Did you get rid of the car?"

"Yeah, dumped it near the Kirby Cove campground, figured it's off-season and too cold for anyone to be doing any serious camping. Shouldn't be found for a couple of days," a young male voice answered from somewhere behind Mike. He then turned his head in the direction of the voice.

"Did you wipe it clean like you were told to?" Angela asked.

"We're not idiots, of course we wiped it clean like you told us to. And to make sure we got rid of any evidence that we might have missed, we decided to burn it," the young man announced proudly as he walked further into the room and stared at the gray-haired cop tied to the chair. He looked back up at Angela and growled, "So this is him? This is the bastard who claimed he was dad's best friend and then stabbed him in the back?"

"It's him," Angela confirmed, releasing her hold on Steve's hair and lowering her gun as her son sneered down at Mike. He turned and walked across to where his mother was waiting.

"Did you remember to get the paperwork I told you to get from his house?" she asked him quietly as she lightly grabbed his arm and lead him across to the small table near the wall.

"Yeah," the young man answered softly as he reached beneath his shirt and pulled several sheets of paper free from where he had them tucked into the top of his jeans, handing her the handful. "A copy of the deed to his house, property tax receipts, house insurance payment and a copy of his mortgage release, complete with the receipt of his final payment."

Placing the gun down on the table, Angela's smile morphed into a grin as she quickly perused through the paperwork.

Her son continued, "It was all in the small safe he has hidden in his closet, just as you said."

"What about the locks on the doors?"

"Changed just like you told us to do," her son answered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of house keys, handing them to her.

"Good boy." Angela patted him on the back before she turned back toward Steve and tilted her head in his direction, ordering loudly, "Get him ready."

"What are you going to do with him?" Mike yelled, struggling against the ropes to break free as the three men in the room moved toward Steve.

"Why Mike, that really depends on you and how well you cooperate with us," she smiled sweetly as Steve was untied and roughly pulled to his feet. Steve's hands were handcuffed in front of him and his legs were tightly bound. Mike could only watch as Steve weakly struggled to break away while the three men roughly manoeuvred him to the centre of the room. Mike felt his breath catch in fear as he suddenly noticed for the first time the heavy chain that hung from a thick, exposed wooden ceiling beam, a hook dangling at the end.

"No, Angela, you can't!" Mike gasped as two of the men lifted Steve's arms up into the air while the third man slipped the hook beneath the handcuff chain, laughing as they stepped away quickly, leaving him hanging by the handcuffs as his legs gave away from underneath him.

Nodding her approval, Angela turned back to Mike and said coldly, "Now Mike, let's discuss you selling your house. After all, why should you own a home after you caused us to lose ours?"

"No!" Mike shook his head unable to believe her demands. "I won't!"

"Oh I think you will," she smiled as she turned and nodded at her son.

Curling his hands into fists, he grinned and nodded silently before he turned and punched Steve hard in the stomach, causing the young inspector to gasp breathlessly in pain.

* * *

She sat on a northern-bound 747, wringing a scarf in her hands. What on earth was going on? Was it some kind of sick joke, and who would be sick enough to pull such a thing? Sure, the return address said Mike Stone, but her father was not that kind of man. He had a great sense of humor, but it wasn't cruel. Not this cruel.

The letter sat in her purse in the envelope it came in. It had been typed, so there was no way to tell who had actually written it. And why? Why would someone tell her that? Mike wasn't her father? It made absolutely no sense, but since her repeated calls to the house went unanswered, she had no choice but to fly home and find out for herself. Whoever thought this was funny was going to get an earful from her, that was for sure.

* * *

Looking up as the door to his real estate business opened, Fred Murray smiled as he rose from his seat. He quickly straightened his tie and smoothed down his pristine white shirt before he hurried across to the counter to greet the couple who had just entered. His smile grew as he recognized the Homicide lieutenant instantly, and he held out his hand to shake as he greeted the couple. "Mike, Mike Stone and … "

"Melony…Melony Stone, I'm Mike's sister," the woman smiled warmly as she pushed a strand of auburn hair that fell across her face back behind her ear before she reached for his hand and shook it.

"Miss Stone," Fred smiled politely, taking her hand and giving it a quick shake before he pulled his hand away and returned his attention back to Mike. "So Lieutenant, what can I do for you today?"

Mike swallowed hard, glancing at Angela, who smiled and nodded at him. He then looked back at Fred and announced, "I…I want to sell my house."

The real estate agent blinked in surprise, uncertain if the lieutenant was serious or not. He had suggested a couple of times when their paths had crossed that Mike should consider placing his home on the market, but Stone had always laughed his suggestion off, stating that he would never sell the house. "Are you sure you want to sell your house?" he asked again, making sure he had heard what the lieutenant had said correctly.

When Mike nodded his affirmation, Fred grinned and waved his arm toward his desk and the two chairs that sat in front of it. He eagerly invited Mike and Angela to sit before he hurried across and sat down in his seat. "Shall we get started?"


	7. Chapter 7

In the cab on the way home, Jeannie kept thinking about what she might confront when she got there. Would Mike be there? Someone else? She even wondered if this wasn't some weird way to get her into town for a surprise party. But what she saw when the car pulled up in front of her DeHaro Street address was not something she could have imagined in a million years - a for sale sign.

She stood on the sidewalk and stared at the sign for so long that she forgot to pay the cab driver. After he cleared his throat to get her attention, she handed him a few dollar bills and turned her attention back to the house. Yes, it was her house and yes, it was a real sign in the yard. She had seen the name Fred Murray on other signs around town in the past, so she knew this was at least partially legitimate, but she still wanted answers.

Bounding up the stairs, she first tried to open the door. Finding it locked, she then dug through her purse until she found her key ring. After sorting her keys, she pulled out the one for the front door but found it hardly even went it. She looked at it queerly, thinking maybe she got the wrong key, but she was certain it was the front door key. Trying it again, she got the same result.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, she then banged on the door with her fists and shouted for Mike, but her knocks were met with silence. Grunting in frustration, she decided to run to the back of the house and see if she could get in that door, but she was met with the same situation as she found herself in with the front door.

"What the hell is going on here?!" she shouted at the house as if it would answer. She then stood and stewed for a moment, trying to decide what her next move would be. When she determined her next move, she ran back to the front of the house and, upon seeing her car still in the garage where she had left it before heading back to Arizona, grabbed the ignition key and got in the car.

* * *

Picking up the sealed evidence bag, Charlie quickly slipped on a pair of latex gloves, opened the bag, and gently lifted out the fedora hat and placed it on the sheet of white paper. Grabbing the small evidence brush from the bench, he used it to carefully brush off any dirt, seeds, lint, or any other small particles of evidence that were clinging to the material, allowing them to drop onto the paper to be examined more closely under the microscope later.

"Have you got anything for us yet, Charlie?"

He sighed in frustration as Lieutenant Devitt entered the lab, followed closely by Sergeant Haseejian. He continued to brush the material off the hat as he growled over his shoulder, "How can you expect me to find anything useful when you keep interrupting me every…"

He frowned, momentarily forgetting the two men who were now standing impatiently behind him as he noticed the minute bulge beneath the hat's band. "What have we got here?" he murmured, placing the brush onto the bench and picking up a small pair of tweezers, carefully manipulating them beneath the band.

"What is it?" Roy asked, peering over the forensic scientist's shoulder as Charlie carefully snagged the small, hard object hidden beneath the band and tugged it loose.

Lifting his hand for silence, Charlie carefully placed the tiny metal object onto the bench before turning to the two officers, placing a finger up to his lips in a silent instruction for them to stay quiet as he nodded toward the door.

Stepping out of the lab, he waited for the two to join him before he closed the door and announced, "Looks like someone bugged Lieutenant Stone's hat with some sort of electronic listening device."

"Someone bugged him?" Norm asked wide-eyed as he looked through the glass window in the door back at the small, thin, metal object, no bigger than a dime, sitting on the bench.

Charlie nodded before he looked at Roy. "And I suspect if they had the lieutenant's hat bugged…"

"Then maybe they have placed bugs in his office and around the bullpen," Roy breathed. "That would explain how they knew Mike's every move. Any idea how close they would have to be to pick up what was being said?"

"Anywhere from the room next door to possibly sitting outside the building in a car. No way of knowing until I take a closer look at the bug itself." Charlie answered before suggesting, "I could do an electronic sweep of the office and the bullpen if you want me to."

"Do it," Roy ordered. "And then I want you to search both cars."

Nodding, Charlie quickly turned and hurried back into his lab before re-emerging a few minutes later with an electronical device that looked like it belonged more in a science fiction movie than a police station. "Okay. I'm ready."

* * *

Holding his finger up to his lips in a silent order for the two officers not to speak, Charlie flicked the switch on the bug detector he held in his hand before he entering Mike's office and looking around, trying to decide where, if he were to plant a small listening device, he would plant it. A small smile graced his lips as he stared at the desk, central to the room to be able to catch most conversations, including one-sided phone call conversations; it was the most logical but also the most obvious place to hide it.

Standing in the doorway, Roy watched as Charlie hesitated and looked around. He crossed to Mike's desk and began to carefully and slowly glide the small machine he held just above the surface of the desk and the items that were sitting upon it. Roy held his breath in anticipation as the smile on Charlie's face grew into an excited grin as he hovered the detector over the small framed photo of Helen that Mike kept next to his phone.

Gently placing the detector down onto the desk, Charlie looked across at Roy and titled his head toward the photo, carefully picking it up and examining it closely. Roy crossed the room and looked over his shoulder. Turning the photo over, Charlie's grin grew as he examined the back of the frame closely, looking back triumphantly toward them. The forensic scientist's grin reminded Norm of the grin he had seen on the disappearing cat in the Alice in Wonderland movie that he had taken his young daughter to see only a few days before. Charlie pointed toward the small metal disc glued to the back of the frame, hidden from view by the small stand that allowed the frame to sit upright and mouthed, "Got ya!"

Roy nodded as Charlie carefully placed the photo back down before he continued to search the room for any more listening devices with the detector, searching under and over the furniture in the room. When he finished with that, he placed the detector back down on the desk and unscrewed the ear and mouth pieces of the phone, checking for any devices that may have been planted there.

Satisfied there were no more devices to be found in the office, Charlie led Roy and Norm out of the office, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Is there any way you will be able to tell how close Mike's eavesdropper was to be able to listen into the bugs?" Roy asked again, repeating the question he had asked down in the lab.

"I should be able to once I take a closer look at them," Charlie assured him.

"Do it," Roy requested before turning away from him. Charlie nodded and re-entered the office.

Turning to watch the activity in the bullpen, Roy ran a hand over his hair. Whoever was behind Steve and Mike's disappearance had meticulously planned this and had full access to not only to the bullpen and Mike's office but to Mike himself. Turning to Norm, he ordered, "Get downstairs to the two cars. I want you to check them for any tailing devices."

"Done," Norm answered before he hurried away.

Looking back around the bullpen at his inspectors, Roy quickly crossed the room to Lee's desk. "Lee, I want you to find out who has had full access to the bullpen and to Mike's office during the last few weeks."

Glancing up in surprise at the magnitude of the order, Lee frowned. "That's a lot of people, Lieutenant."

"I know," Roy answered slowly as his mind raced, trying to work out some way to narrow the search. He paused and looked back at Mike's office and frowned until he suddenly returned his attention back to the inspector sitting at the desk, waiting for him to continue. "Narrow the search down to someone who would be able to move around the pen and Mike's office unsupervised and if anyone else was around, un-noticed."

"Like another officer?"

Roy shook his head as he glanced back at Mike's office. Whoever had planted the bugs would have had to have been able to pick up the two items, especially the photo, without arousing Mike's suspicions or, if the office was empty, the suspicions of anyone else who might have been in the bullpen. "No, check out any cleaning or maintenance staff who has had access to the bullpen and Mike's office during the last four weeks. I want a full background check on them and if there is any connection, no matter how small, between them and Mike or Steve."

"On it." Lee acknowledged the order as he rose out of his chair and headed toward the door.

"And Lee," Roy waited until the younger man stopped his egress out of the pen and turned back to look at him before he added, "tell Ron Mason I want to see him as soon as he gets off the front desk."

"Okay, Roy." Lee nodded, turning back to the door and holding it open for Jeannie before he stepped around her and headed out of the bullpen.

* * *

She tried not to storm into the office, but she found she had anyway when everyone turned around and looked at her. Smiling coyly, she looked in the direction of her father's office and saw Roy Devitt sitting at his desk and Rudy Olsen standing next to it. Perplexed even moreso now, she approached the closed office door and knocked.

Roy looked up, and when he saw who it was, immediately waved her inside. Perhaps she would be able to shed some light on the situation.

"Where's Mike?" she said before anything else. "He wasn't at home, so I figured he'd be here."

Having stood up as she entered, Roy motioned toward the chair to have her sit. As she did, she darted her eyes back and forth between the two men. "What is going on? Where is Mike?"

"We're actually surprised to see you here, Jeannie," Rudy said. "I thought you were at school."

"I was, until this came in the mail!" Digging through her purse, she pulled out the envelope and pushed it toward the captain.

He opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, unfolding it and reading through it before shaking his head and handing it to Roy. "Mike sent that?" Rudy asked, dumbfounded.

Shaking her head, Jeannie answered, "It says he did, but I don't think so. Come on! My father is my father! I know that! What is going on here?!"

While Roy read, Rudy attempted to answer her plea without scaring her too much. "We...well...we're not sure. He came in this morning and quit…"

Jeannie interrupted before he could go on. "Quit?! His job? He quit?"

Rudy nodded. "That was pretty much my reaction as well. He never said why, but we think someone has kidnapped him and is making him do...things."

"Like write a letter saying you aren't his daughter," Roy murmured. "So so far, this woman has made him quit the force, drive to the ferry terminal and disappear, and now supposedly send a letter to Jeannie saying he's not her father. And we have no idea who she is."

"She? A woman took my father?"

"Seems that way, yes. But so far we don't have much to go on that would lead us to her identity."

"Was he hurt?" She turned around and saw the roped-off section of the floor and the caution signs around it. "What happened there?"

Rudy shook his head. "That wasn't Mike," was all he said. "But we're sure it's connected."

Letting out a small sigh of relief, she smiled, but the more she looked at where the rope started, the more she panicked. "Steve? Where's Steve?"

Both men looked at each other. "We don't know," Roy whispered.

Jeannie turned back, fright written in the wrinkles on her face. "Does this woman have him too?"

"Probably so, yeah."

She simply sat quiet for a moment, trying to work out the high number of messages running around in her mind. Finally, somewhere in the muddled mess, one came through clearly. "That must be why the house is for sale."

"Huh? What house?"

"My house! Mike's house! There's a for sale sign in the yard, and all the locks have been changed. Fortunately, my car was still in the garage, and it looked like all the furniture was still there, but…"

"Mike would never sell his house," Rudy declared.

"I know, but there the sign was, right in the yard. And it was not fake."

Roy sat for a moment, looking off toward the wall. "What are you thinking?" Rudy asked him after the silence in the room became uncomfortable.

"In order to get that house listed, Mike would have to do it himself, provide all the paperwork. That tells me that this listing agent saw him...and maybe saw our kidnapper. Without his hat, she wouldn't have been able to listen in on him to make sure he said the right things, so she'd almost have to go in with him."

Rudy and Roy gave each other knowing looks before turning to Jeannie. "Who was the agent?"

"Fred Murray. He has an agency not far from our house."

"Let's go pay a visit to Mr. Murray, shall we?" Roy suggested.


	8. Chapter 8

Jeannie had escorted Roy to the realtor's office after Rudy got pulled away at the last minute on an unrelated matter. She was going to demand she go with anyway, since it was her father who was missing and her house that was being sold out from underneath her. When they arrived, they saw a clean storefront with an open sign in the window next to the name Fred Murray, CRS, SRES.

Fred, who had seen their approach through the window, stood up from his desk to greet the pair. "Good afternoon, Folks! How can I help you today? Looking for a new house, putting yours on the market?"

Roy got into his coat pocket and pulled out his badge, flashing it at the realtor. "Actually, we're just here for some information."

"Oh," Murray said, surprised to see the police in his cozy office. "Have a seat, please," he told the two, pointing to the chairs in front of his desk. "What can I help you with?"

It was clear that the man was highly nervous, as if he was scared that he had done something illegal, so Jeannie attempted to put him a bit more at ease. "You currently have my house for sale. Well, my father's house. Mike Stone?"

Murray smiled at that. "Oh yes, Mr. Stone. He was in just a few hours ago actually. To be quite honest, I was surprised to see him. Over the years, I have discussed selling his property with him, perhaps downsizing a bit, but he was never interested. Yet he comes in today eager to sell."

"Was he with anyone?" Roy asked, hoping the answer was yes.

Nodding, Murray told them, "Yes, he was with his sister." This elicited a surprised and irked side eye from Jeannie, who was unaware she her father had a "sister."

Grabbing his notebook out of his jacket pocket, Roy asked the realtor what the sister looked like.

"Attractive I would say, a little younger than Mr. Stone, but only by maybe 10 years. Maybe 5'7", 5'8", although she did have heels on. Her hair was sort of an auburn color, though…"

"Though what?" Roy pushed.

"Well, I know ladies can be self-conscious about this sort of thing, but it looked like she was wearing a wig. One of those long ones little girls wear at Halloween. I'm certainly no fashion expert, but when my wife had cancer, she lost her hair during chemo and chose to wear a wig. Her biggest thing was making sure it didn't look like a wig. This lady's...well, it seemed easy to tell. Almost like she put it on too quickly."

"This sister have a name?" Jeannie asked, trying not to sound too snotty.

"Melody...Melony...Melony I believe. Your father did most of the talking, though he looked awfully uncomfortable about it."

"How so?" Roy piped up.

"I've been in this business long enough that I have seen all degrees of willingness to part with a property. And Mr. Stone just did not seem ready to sell. I got this feeling that his sister was somehow pushing him into it. She did do an awful lot of the talking."

Putting his notebook away, Roy asked, "We need to talk to this sister but can't seem to locate her. Did she leave you any contact information?"

Murray shook his head while looking down at an open file on his desk. "All I have here is Mr. Stone's phone number." He picked up the paper he was looking at and showed it to Jeannie, who confirmed it was their home number.

"Could you describe her to a police sketch artist?"

"Oh dear. Has she done something wrong? Have I done something?"

"No, but we may require further assistance from you in figuring out this mess. So, could you describe her?" Roy asked.

"Sure. Like I said, she did most of the talking, so I spent most of the conversation looking at her."

* * *

Mike stumbled, almost losing his balance as he was pushed, unceremoniously, into the small, bare room. He quickly turned around as he heard the door slam shut behind him. The key turned in the lock, locking him in. Turning back around, he looked around the empty room. The paint on the brick walls was faded and peeling, the floor was just rough bare cement, and what once appeared to have been a window appeared to have been bricked up. The single naked light bulb that was suspended just a couple of inches below the ceiling cast a weak light that did not quite reach the corners. It only added to the hopelessness and the gloomy atmosphere of the room.

He jumped and spun around as he heard the key turning in the door lock a moment before it opened again and Steve was thrust into the room. The door slammed closed again, the key turning in the lock echoing through the tiny room.

"Steve!" Mike gasped, rushing to his partner's side as Steve stumbled and fell to his knees. Grabbing Steve's shoulders, he gently eased the injured man onto the ground, his chest tightening as he heard Steve gasp in pain while he gently rolled him over onto his back. Quickly removing his coat, he folded it up and slipped it beneath Steve's head, swallowing hard as he saw the bruises that marred Steve's face, chest, and stomach - bruises that he had been responsible for. Steve's hands were still handcuffed in front of him, his wrists bruised and bloody from where the metal bracelets had cut his wrists when he was hung.

"Mike?" Steve asked softly as he squinted up at the familiar face above him.

"Yeah Steve, it's me," Mike whispered through his tightened throat, gently touching the side of his partner's face. He began to examine the bloody bullet wound in Steve's shoulder, using the bottom of his shirt in an attempt to wipe some of the blood away.

"Owww," Steve groaned as he arched his back in pain and tried to pull away from Mike's gentle touch.

"Easy Steve, I just want to check your shoulder." Mike tried to soothe his younger partner as he quickly scanned the room, searching for anything he could use to hopefully place enough pressure on the wound to slow the bleeding when he bandaged it. He was unable to stop the small chuckle that escaped from his lips as he heard Steve mutter through clenched teeth, "Marcus… Welby, you're… not!"

Finding nothing in the empty room that he could use, he unbuttoned his shirt and quickly pulled it off, tearing it into long strips as he looked down at his friend and teased, "I hope not, Buddy Boy, 'cause I like to think that I am better looking than he is!"

Folding one of the strips of cloth into a temporary dressing, Mike apologized that what he was about to do was going to hurt. He then pressed the makeshift dressing against the bullet wound. He cringed a little as Steve cried out in pain but gritted his teeth, determined to finish what he had started. Sitting Steve up as gently as he could and leaning Steve against him, he awkwardly bandaged his shoulder. Easing Steve back down, he covered him with the remnants of his torn shirt as he looked down into Steve's damp, ashen face and whispered, "You still with me, Buddy Boy?"

Biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt not to moan as fiery white hot bolts of pain radiated out from his shoulder, down his arm, and through his chest, Steve opened his eyes, blinked away the tears, and nodded. Taking a trembling breath, he looked up at Mike and asked, "Who…who… is she?"

Glancing toward the door before looking back at his partner, Mike was disheartened to see spots of red appearing on his makeshift dressing. Almost reluctantly. He answered, "Angela, Angela Hawkins. Her husband, Shawn, and I went to the academy together, and then later we walked the beat together for a few months. It was during that time together that I discovered he was a dirty cop. He was later convicted for taking bribes and trying to pervert the course of justice. He got ten years…A death sentence for any cop…and…" Mike swallowed hard, "And as it turns out, it became a death sentence for him…"

"And…she wants to … punish you." Steve panted breathlessly, swallowing a moan.

Blinking away the darkness that hovered around the edges of his consciousness, beckoning him with the promise no pain, Steve grabbed Mike's arm, ensuring he had the older man's attention before he licked his dry lips and whispered, "If you … get a… chance to escape, promise me… Mike, you will… take it."

"Steve!" Mike gasped, shaking his head, horrified that Steve would even consider him leaving him behind.

"Promise … me," Steve begged as his eyes drifted closed.


	9. Chapter 9

Staring at the artist's sketch of the woman who had escorted Mike to the realtor, Rudy frowned. The face was strangely familiar, but he wasn't certain if it was because he knew her or if it was because the face looked like the faces of hundreds of women whom he passed in the streets every day. The only thing about the woman that made her just that little bit different from those women, with the exception of the childish wig she had worn, were her eyes. Even though they were sketched in pencil, the eyes were captivating, almost hypnotic as they stared at him from of the sheet of paper.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he continued to stare at the image in frustration. He pushed it across the desk towards Roy and asked, "Does she remind you of anyone?"

Picking up the sheet of paper, Roy frowned as he studied the image. He shrugged and looked back at Rudy. "No, should she?"

Rudy shrugged as he accepted the sheet of paper back and glanced at it one last time. "No…I guess not. Just can't shake the feeling I have seen her somewhere before." Shaking his head when he could not place just where he had seen her, he handed a second copy of the sketch across to Bill. "I want you to get this sketch and her description out in an APB. Better add not to approach but to follow and contact us if she is seen."

Bill nodded as he accepted the sketch and hurried from the office, stepping around Ron Mason as the desk sergeant stepped into Mike's office. "Roy, Lessing said you wanted to see me."

Roy nodded. "Come in, Ron."

The desk sergeant entered the office, glancing nervously at Rudy before he returned his attention back to Roy. He smiled and asked half-jokingly, "Am I in trouble or something, Roy? 'Cause if it's about that poker game the other night, we were just betting with peanuts..."

"No, this has nothing to do with your weekly poker game," Roy chuckled, "Although the last time I played with you, you beat me with four aces. I'm still not convinced that fourth ace didn't come from the bottom of the pack." Growing more serious, Roy added, "I guess you have heard that Stone and Keller are both missing."

"Yeah I heard. I just wish I would have gotten the name of the woman who called Mike before he disappeared."

Roy nodded. "Tell us about the call."

"Not much I can tell you really, I'm afraid," Ron began. "The call came through to the front desk just as Mike was leaving. The woman caller asked for the call to be put through to Mike, so I called him over. Unfortunately, I got distracted by a drunk who was giving some of the boys trouble, so I didn't overhear any of the conversation. However, I did notice that when Mike hung up, he looked upset and like he was going to be sick, but before I could ask him if everything was ok, he practically ran out of the building." The desk sergeant paused and slowly shook his head. "I wish he would have said something…"

"We don't think he could," Roy answered slowly.

"Is there anything you can tell us about the woman on the phone, maybe some background noises you heard?" Rudy asked.

Running a hand over his face, and holding his chin as he frowned, he answered, "Now that you ask… There was the usual background noises of traffic. I think the call came from a payphone. I heard the coins drop in as I answered but…"

"But?" Rudy pushed.

"I know it probably sounds crazy, but there was just something about her voice." The desk sergeant blushed and shrugged his shoulders. "I can't shake the feeling that I knew it, but I haven't got a clue where from."

Pushing the artist's sketch across the table, Roy asked, "Do you recognize her?"

"Is this the broad you think has Mike and Keller?" Ron frowned as he picked up the drawing and studied it.

"We think so."

Biting his bottom lip, the desk sergeant's frown deepened before he looked up at the two homicide officers who were watching him. He slowly passed the sketch back as he answered. "Damn it. Like the voice, I know the face, but I have no idea why!"

"Thanks Ron. If you happen to remember where you know her from or who she is…"

"I will let you know," Ron agreed before he asked, "Is there anything else? I really need to get back downstairs to the desk. Micky Lordes called in sick, so I'm doing a double shift."

"No that's all. Thanks Ron." Roy nodded in dismissal as he watched the sergeant turn and hurry from the office. He waited until Ron closed the office door behind him before he turned to Rudy and sighed, "What now?"

"We know that whoever this woman is, she is forcing Mike to sell his house," Rudy said softly as he rose from the chair he was sitting on and began to pace the room.

"Yeah… so?" Roy watched the other man in confusion.

"What if there was a buyer who is interested in buying it?" Rudy said slowly as the idea began to solidify in his mind.

"A buyer? I don't understand."

"Let's just say the buyer wants to talk to the owner first about the house before he considers putting in an offer…"

"It would have to be someone who is not a cop…" Roy said slowly as he realized what Rudy was planning.

"Yeah… someone like, oh...Doctor Murchison."

"Lenny?" Roy frowned before he smiled. "Yeah that might just work, especially if he can get Mike alone for a couple of minutes."

"Why don't you give Murchison a call, and I will call the realtor," Rudy ordered before he added, "Let's see how fast we can get this set up."

* * *

Fred Murray nervously picked up the phone, sweat beading up on his brow. She hadn't made him apprehensive before, but now that he knew she was a kidnapper, he wanted nothing to do with her. He was also afraid he would mess up the call by letting something slip. The fact that he might cause a man his life weighed heavily on his thoughts, but he attempted to push that to the back of his mind as he dialed the number he had been given. Now knowing it was Mike's home number made him wonder if anyone would even pick up the phone.

" _Hello?"_ a sweet female voice answered after five rings.

Fred gulped. "Ms. Stone? This is Fred Murray, your realtor."

" _Oh, Mr. Murray. There isn't a problem with the house I hope?"_

Chuckling, he spit out, "No, no, on the contrary. I'm actually calling to let you know I have someone interested in the property."

" _Already?"_ There was a certain amount of doubt in her voice, which caused Fred's stomach to do a flip. _God, it's all blown_ , he thought.

" _That's wonderful!"_ she announced, promptly putting Fred's insides back in their proper place. " _When can we sign the papers?"_

"Um, not so fast, Ms. Stone. This person would like to meet Mr. Stone to discuss the property's history, and issues it may have…"

" _I'll meet with him,"_ she interrupted.

The sweat from his brow was now running down his face. "Well...see, I was under the impression that you haven't lived in the house, and my client would really like to deeply discuss the ins and outs of the property. He specifically asked to speak with the owner." _Please let that work, please let that work,_ he worried.

The was a sigh on the other end. Finally, she muttered, " _Alright, fine. When should we be there?"_


	10. Chapter 10

After getting off the phone with Fred Murray, Angela reluctantly and angrily got back into her outfit and wig to play Mike's sister once more. Seeing her stomping around, her son asked her what was going on. She informed him that there was a potential buyer for the lieutenant's house, but that this person wanted to ask Mike questions, meaning she had to drag him back out. The young man quickly walked away, not wanting to further anger his volatile mother.

Once she was done looking the role of Mike's sister, Angela went to the dingy basement to retrieve her victim. Upon opening the door, she found Mike sitting up against the cement wall, and Steve lying next to him, breathing very shallowly.

"This place is truly depressing, isn't it?" she commented, glancing around the barely-lit, cold room. The she added a chuckle. "Makes you want to give up on life, doesn't it?"

Mike didn't take the bait. He simply stayed in his spot, barely moving a muscle.

Angela rolled her eyes and growled, "Get up. I have another assignment for you."

Again, Mike barely moved. "And if I say no?"

She sauntered over to Steve and promptly kicked his already bruised and batter body right in the ribcage. "Is that enough of an answer for you?"

Wincing, the older man reluctantly looked up at his captor, though his look could have killed her. "What do you want?"

"We have a party interested in your house, but for some damn reason, they will only talk to you. So get up. We're going home, brother."

Never in his life had he wanted to punch a woman, but this one came very close. Piece by piece, he was watching his life disappear, and it was all her doing. Steve, his partner and friend, was dying beside him. His daughter thought he wasn't her father, his house was being sold out from underneath him, and this woman expected him to gladly give it away, all because she felt wronged - not by the person who actually wronged her, but by an innocent man whose only crime was doing the right thing.

However, he realized that all this hatred that he was allowing to stew inside him was just going to get Steve killed, something that he was willing to give up his house to prevent. Slowly, he stood up and asked, "When?"

At that moment, Angela's youngest came in carrying a suit on a hanger. Mike immediately recognized it as one of his own. The boy handed the suit to his mother, gave Mike a dirty look, and turned to leave the room. Angela threw the garment at Mike, who fortunately caught it.

"Get dressed. You have ten minutes." She then followed her son out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The bang woke Steve from his pain-induced stupor. Gingerly turning his head, he looked up at Mike and whispered, "What...what's going on?"

As he took the suit out of the dry cleaning bag, Mike looked down and told his ailing partner what was going on.

"You...you can't...do that."

"I have to. If I don't, you won't make it, and I am not letting that happen. Not in a million years."

"But your house…"

"Is worth less than your life. It's just a house after all."

Steve closed his eyes and worked through a bout of pain before he spoke again. "It has...history though."

Mike looked straight at the wall as he did up his shirt buttons, several scenes from his life flashing before his eyes. "But you know what, Steve? That history, it's all up here," he said, using his right index finger to tap his temple. "They'll always be in here whether I'm in that house or not. Plus, truth be told, sometimes that big place gets lonely. When it was the three of us, it seemed lively, full. Then it was just Jeannie and me, yet it still felt warm. Now that she's off on her own, and it's just me, sometimes it just feels...cold. Downsizing might not be so bad. Less place to maintain."

Steve blew out a breath. "You're...too positive." He then let out a small chuckle.

"Sometimes it's all we have. Faith." Momentarily abandoning his dressing, Mike kneeled down to Steve and looked him in the eyes. "I need you to have faith right now, especially while I'm gone." He took one of his hands and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Faith? In what?"

"That we will get out of this. I know things look dire now, but trust in me, Buddy Boy. I will get us out of this."

The two looked at each other for a moment, solidifying the faith they had in each other. Steve then gave Mike's hand a squeeze before closing his eyes and drifting back off.

Mike stood up and continued to get dressed, wondering just what he was going to do to keep that promise.

Minutes later, Angela came in and dragged Mike out of the room. Climbing the stairs, they made it to the main floor and out to the car without saying a word. Angela was saving that for the drive to the house.

At a stop light, she narrowed her eyes and looked over at her passenger. "I will tell you this once and only once. If you do anything suspicious, Steve gets another beating. Tell the realtor or buyer something to tip them off? Beating. Send some kind of signal? Beating."

"And you'll be watching my every move too," he added, finishing her threat.

"You're finally catching on."

* * *

 

Straightening his tie for the umpteen time before spitting on his hand and running it nervously over his thinning hair to try and hide the bald spot that threatened to peek out on the top his head, Fred smiled weakly as he looked across at the man driving the car. "I bet you do this kind of stuff all the time."

"No, 'fraid it's the first time for me as well; they usually keep me locked up in an office." Lenny smiled and shook his head before he added confidentially, "But from what I heard about how well you did setting up this meeting, I have full confidence in you being able to do this."

"Glad one of us does," Fred muttered softly as he straightened his tie again.

"You'll do great." Lenny smiled as he parked the car outside Mike's home and turned towards the nervous man sitting next to him. "Just remember that I need a few minutes alone with Lieutenant Stone, so I will need you to keep the woman distracted for me."

Fred swallowed hard and nodded, "I'll try, but I can't promise for how long."

"As long as you can will be fine," Lenny reassured him softly as he reached for the door handle. "Ready?"

"I guess I'm as ready as I will ever be." Fred breathed quietly as he opened the car door and climbed out before he led Lenny to Mike's front door. After knocking lightly, he glanced quickly at the psychiatrist beside him as he heard the murmur of voices inside, closely followed by footsteps coming to the door. Lenny nodded confidently at him again, and he drew a deep breath as the door opened and he found himself staring at Angela. Forcing his famous house selling smile, he cleared his throat and made the introductions. "Good afternoon Ms. Stone, may I introduce you to Mr. Thompson, the gentleman I spoke to you about earlier."

"Oh, of course, the gentleman who is interested in buying the house. Please, come in." Angela smiled politely as she ushered the two men inside.

"Thank you." Lenny nodded as he followed Fred into the house and glanced around.

Reluctantly joining Angela at the door as she stepped aside to allow the two men to enter, Mike forced his face to remain neutral as he instantly recognized the 'buyer'. Holding out his hand, he shook Lenny's hand as Angela excitedly made the introductions. "Mike, this is Mr. Thompson, the man Mr. Murray called us about who is interested in buying the house." Turning back to Lenny, she rushed on, "Mr. Thompson, this is my brother Michael; he owns the home."

"Mr. Stone." Lenny nodded distractedly, shaking Mike's hand as he continued to look around the living room. The police psychiatrist returned his attention back to Mike and Angela and apologized profusely, "I'm so sorry for being so rude, but this house seems to be just what I am looking for. Right location and from my first impressions, well looked after. I wonder if you would mind showing me around?"

"Of course." Angela grinned, instantly relaxing as her initial suspicion about how fast the house had attracted a potential buyer melted away. Thompson seemed genuinely interested in buying the house. "Please come this way. Shall we start with the bedrooms upstairs?"

"Yes, please," Lenny agreed as Angela grabbed Mike's arm before she turned and began to led the way. Placing his hand lightly on Mike's back, the psychiatrist could feel the tension beneath his hand as he followed her up the stairs with the anxious realtor only a few steps behind.

Watching the woman closely as she led him from room to room, Lenny quickly realized what a dangerous woman they were dealing with. Although she seemed to have bought the story that he was a buyer, she still had an aura of paranoia about her, constantly controlling the conversation and everything Mike said or did. More disturbing to the psychiatrist was the fact that the mask of self-control and friendliness was firmly in place, but he could still see the seething rage and hatred directed towards Mike each time she looked at him.

Glancing towards his friend, Lenny could easily see the tension Mike was under; the man looked like he was walking with through a minefield, fearing some sort of explosion with each step he took. He looked like he had aged ten years in the last few hours, and there was a haunted look in his eyes each time he looked at Lenny that told the psychiatrist more about the stress and the fear he was now enduring far louder than words ever could.

"I couldn't believe it when I saw the 'for sale' sign outside when I drove past earlier." Lenny grinned as they re-entered the living room after Angela's tour of the house. "It seems like just the type of house I have been searching for."

"So you're interested?" Angela asked eagerly as she turned back around to face him.

"Very," Lenny answered. "But first there are a few questions about the house's history, any electrical, wiring or plumbing problems etc., that I would like to ask about before I make any decisions." Lenny saw the look of suspicion instantly return to Angela's face before he shrugged apologetically and added, "You see I bought another house a few months ago to rent out, and didn't ask any of these questions before I bought it…and well…let's just say it ended up costing me more to fix all the problems and get the house up to code than the house originally cost."

Biting her bottom lip, Angela nodded slowly, accepting the explanation as Fred lightly grabbed her arm and whispered into her ear, "Why don't we leave Mike and Mr. Thompson alone to talk while we go into the kitchen. I need to talk to you about the price you have on the house. Maybe we could look at increasing it just a little, especially with the interest the house has generated so far since putting it on the market today. I may have another potential buyer…"

Turning to look at the realtor, Angela grinned as the thought of being able to sell the house for more than she had originally planned spiked her interest. Looking back at Lenny, she politely excused herself, saying that she would leave them to talk.

Lenny did not miss the silent warning look she cast at Mike before she turned and left the room, headed towards the small kitchen with Fred trailing behind her.

Watching Fred and Angela leave the small dining room, Mike turned back to Lenny after he was certain he could not be overheard and whispered, "Lenny, what are you doing here? How…?"

Grabbing Mike's arm, Lenny glanced towards the kitchen to reassure himself that Angela was currently occupied and would not be listening before he turned back to Mike and softly answered, "Jeannie."

"Jeannie?" Mike asked anxiously, his heart sinking as he remembered the letter that Angela had told him she had sent his daughter. "The letter?" Lenny nodded as Mike swallowed hard and asked, "Did she believe it?"

"She's your daughter, Mike, what do you think?" Lenny quickly reassured the upset man, seeing some of the tension leave Mike's face as he rushed on. "She came home to find out what was going on and found the house for sale and went straight to the station to find out what was going on. Rudy and Roy knew that your behavior and disappearance was connected to whatever happened to Steve. Jeannie discovering the house was for sale gave them the break in the case they needed, so that's why I'm here. They thought it would be best if the buyer was someone who was not a cop. Now we don't have much time. Fred is trying to keep Angela or whoever she is occupied long enough for us to talk. So, what is going on, Mike? Who is she? What does she want?"

Glancing again towards the kitchen and relaxing a little as he heard the soft murmurs of Fred and Angela talking, Mike looked back at Lenny as he tried to answer as many of the psychiatrist's questions as he could before Angela returned. "Her real name is Angela Hawkins, her husband Shawn was one of my partners."

"Her husband's a cop?" Lenny frowned.

"Was a cop. He was jailed a few years ago for corruption and died while in jail." Mike swallowed hard, "It was my testimony that got him convicted."

"So she wants revenge," Lenny breathed.

"I think she wants to take everything she lost away from me. She wants me to suffer just like Shawn suffered, as she thinks her family suffered." Lenny saw the anguish and guilt in Mike's eyes as Mike pleaded, "And she is using Steve to do it…" Mike fell quiet as he heard the murmuring in the kitchen stop a heartbeat before he heard one of the kitchen chairs scrape across the floor, warning him that someone had just stood up and was probably headed back to the living room. Turning back to Lenny, the fear for his partner's safety was evident in his eyes as he whispered, "Lenny, we have to get him out."

"So I will arrange to have my own house inspection done as soon as I possibly can," Lenny told Mike as Angela hurried back into the living room with Fred right behind her. "And if he finds no problems, I would like to make an offer on the house."

"That will be fine." Mike nodded as Angela hurried across to stand by his side again, grabbing his arm.

Glancing down at his watch, Lenny frowned. "Oh my, I didn't realize it was so late." Looking back up at Mike and Angela, he smiled. "It's been a pleasure to meet both of you and look through your beautiful home. And I am sure that I will be making an offer in the next couple of days." He watched Angela's eyes light up and her grip on Mike's arm tighten in excitement at his words before he added politely, "Now if you will excuse me, I really need to go. I have an appointment with a plumber at the other house." Looking across at Fred, he asked, "Can I give you a lift back to your office? It's on my way."

"Yes, please." Fred nodded a little too fast before he looked back at Angela, who was watching him closely, as he chuckled and explained, "My car got towed this morning for parking in the No Parking Zone outside the business. Guess the officer who got it towed was tired of writing me tickets." He shrugged as he added softly, "I will call you if he puts in an offer or the other interested buyer wants to look around."

"Please do," Angela told him as she and Mike walked Lenny and Fred to the door. "And it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thompson." She smiled as she opened the door for them to leave.

Mike watched her nervously as she closed the door behind the two men and turned back to him.

"It looks like you just saved your partner from another beating... for now," she told him coldly.


	11. Chapter 11

Holding Mike's arm firmly as they walked down the stairs, Angela was unable to stop smiling. The realtor said they could probably ask for and get at least one hundred and twenty-two thousand dollars for the house, maybe even one hundred and twenty-five if they could make the buyer believe that they had other offers. One hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars! She couldn't believe it! But this was just the start!

She had even bigger plans for Lieutenant Michael Stone. Plans that were going to make her a very, very rich woman and ruin not only his precious reputation but the rest of his life, as short as it may be.

Her smile morphed into a grin of excited anticipation for her future as she opened the car door and ordered Mike to get in before removing the blindfold she had forced him to use on the way over from her bag and tossed it at him, ordering him to put it on or else. She waited until he did as he was told before she slammed the door closed and hurried around to the driver's side of the car and opened her own door, pausing to quickly look around for anyone too interested in them. Seeing no one who seemed to be paying them any special attention or any suspicious men in cars watching them, she climbed in, started the engine, and pulled out into the light traffic.

Glancing across at the silent, blindfolded man sitting next to her, she smiled. "Well, Mike, who knew that you could ever afford a one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollar house on a cop's salary." Returning her attention back to the traffic, she laughed sardonically, "And you accused Shawn of being a dirty cop!"

Gritting his teeth against the taunts, Mike forced himself to remain silent as he felt the car turn left around a corner. He frowned as he tried to map out the route they were traveling in his head while she continued to taunt him.

"So I wonder how Jeannie is feeling at the moment. After all, it's not every day that a daughter discovers her father is not her…" Angela's taunt trailed off when she glanced into the rear vision mirror and noticed a strangely familiar dark blue sedan trailing two cars behind her. She frowned and looked back at the road before taking a right-hand turn at the next corner, her eyes traveling immediately back to the mirror as she watched the sedan turn the corner a few heartbeats later. "Sons of bitches!" she growled as she turned right again to confirm her suspicions.

Watching the mirror, she released the breath she was holding as the blue sedan continued straight ahead. She shook her head and laughed nervously as she took the next left and began to drive again in the direction of the house, only to notice the same blue sedan traveling several cars behind a few minutes later. "Sons of bitches!" she growled again as she reefed the steering wheel to the left, taking the next corner on two wheels, biting her bottom lip, momentarily uncertain of what to do.

Her mouth set into a hard, grim line as she realized that she had no other option but to dump the car. She took the next corner and accelerated away as she headed toward The Wharf, glancing in the mirror as she tried to gauge just how much distance she was putting between herself and the tail. Satisfied she would have enough time to make the call, she swung the car into the parking lot outside the pier.

Mike felt his heart stop as he heard her furious curses and felt the car accelerate around the corners. He did not need to be able to see to know that she had spotted a tail and he feared the repercussions of what was happening. Sitting as still as he could in an attempt not to anger the woman beside him any further, he felt the car lurch to a violent stop a moment before the blindfold was forcefully tugged off his head. He blinked, momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness as he felt the unmistakable sensation of a gun being pressed into his side.

"Don't try to be a hero once we get inside," Angela warned him coldly, the hatred she felt for him evident in her eyes. "Or else your partner won't be the only one to die. I will make sure a lot of innocent people die as well. Understand?" Swallowing hard, Mike nodded as Angela titled her head toward the door and ordered, "Now get out, nice and easy."

Opening the door, Mike got out as Angela alighted and hurried around to his side of the car, the gun she had now hidden back in her bag. She grabbed Mike's arm and roughly steered him toward the famous tourist attraction. Glancing over her shoulder as they reached the entrance, she saw the blue sedan turn into the parking lot and slowly cruise along the rows of cars, searching for the car she had just abandoned. Turning back, she quickly steered Mike through the large crowd of locals and tourists, weaving them through several shops and bars until she reached a payphone.

Pushing the Homicide lieutenant against the rails that lined the edge of the pier, she quickly looked around. Satisfied that no one had yet followed them, she looked down at her bag in a silent warning to Mike before she picked up the phone, inserted a dime, and dialed. She waited for less than a minute for her call to be answered before she snapped into it, "We've been followed, you know what to do…. Yes, just do what we had planned in case this happened."

Slamming down the phone, she turned and grabbed Mike's arm again, rushing him through one of the bars and back outside to the tram stop just as it arrived. Pushing her captive up the tram stairs, she threw several dollar bills at the driver before shoving Mike down the aisle and pushing him down onto the first empty seat. Sliding down on the seat beside him, she turned and looked out of the window, watching the two men who hurried out of the terminal and looked around, as the tram pulled away.

* * *

"Hiya, Cop," the young man greeted as he walked into the cold room. "Wanna know somethin' funny?"

Steve, half conscious and in too much pain to care about anything, merely groaned in response.

"Glad you asked!" the son replied, laughing as he ambled toward Steve, who was still lying virtually motionless on the cement floor. While he walked, he admired the shiny steel-toed boots on his feet. "You see, your buddy, well...I guess he didn't quite live up to his end of the bargain. Least that's what my mom just told me. Guess he's a slow learner. So, to teach him yet another lesson for being so careless…"

The kid didn't have to say anymore; Steve knew what was about to happen. Mustering up as much strength as he could, he attempted to sit up so that at least he could try to defend himself. However, whatever in his torso that was broken reminded him of such by sending the worst pains he had ever felt through his entire body. Since that wasn't going to work, he attempted to scoot away, which he did manage to do somewhat. Didn't matter though. For the next minute, Angela's son kicked Steve everywhere he could, concentrating mostly on the man's rib cage and pelvis. He measured his success based on how many times he heard a bone crack and Steve shouted out in agony.

When the number got too high for him to count anymore, and Steve had stopped moving, he glanced down at his shoes to make sure they were still in pristine condition. Satisfied that the cop hadn't bled on them, the young man took a key out of his pocket, bent down rolled Steve onto his stomach, unlocked the handcuffs and took them off his wrists, smiled, and turned to leave the room, firmly believing he had left no evidence behind.


	12. Chapter 12

Looking up from the files they were perusing of recently paroled women whose cases Mike had been involved in the investigation or their arrest, Roy waved Lenny into the office after the psychiatrist lightly rapped on the closed door.

"How did it go?" Rudy asked as he placed down the file he had been reading.

Lenny shook his head as he looked at the two men who were anxiously waiting for his report as he crossed to the desk. "If you want to know if we are dealing with a disturbed individual, my answer would be yes; the woman we are dealing with would take the lead role in the movie _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_. She's highly volatile, paranoid, and extremely dangerous, and she exhibits a deep-seated hatred of Mike," he began honestly as he settled himself on the edge of the desk. "She tried to control every aspect of the meeting, and she controlled Mike's every move when she was with him."

Roy cast a quick worried glance toward his captain before turning back to Lenny. "Did you get to talk to Mike alone? How is he? Was he able to give you any useful information about who she is or what she wants or about Keller?" The questions tumbled out one after the other.

Lenny nodded as he shifted a little on the desk so he could look at the two men better. "At first, I thought that she was too paranoid to allow me to have a few minutes with Mike by myself. She is extremely suspicious and highly vigilant for any threats real or perceived, but I managed to convince her that I was just who she was told I was – a harmless homebuyer who was only interested in buying the house and not in her or Mike. She finally allowed me to spend a few minutes alone with Mike in the living room so we could discuss the plumbing and electricity while she and the realtor retired to the kitchen to discuss the sale price. But her paranoia was so high that she left the door between the kitchen and the living room open, probably to monitor everything that Mike was doing and what we were discussing."

"And?" Roy pushed impatiently.

"Mike was able to tell me her name is Angela Hawkins…"

"Angela Hawkins?" Rudy frowned at the familiar name as he picked up the sketch artist rendering of the woman still sitting on the table in front of him and studied it. Her name, like her face, was extremely familiar, and he looked up in surprise when he realized why. "Her husband was a cop…"

Lenny nodded in agreement. "Mike said he was a dirty cop…"

"He was Mike's partner back when Mike was still in uniform." Rudy breathed as he stared at the face in the drawing. Looking back up at Lenny and Rudy, he shook his head and said, "It was Mike's testimony that convicted him… I remember that Angela blamed Mike for Shawn going to jail…"

"Mike told me that he died in jail," Lenny told them softly.

"And this is her revenge?" Roy frowned.

"She blames Mike for not only her husband's conviction and death but for everything that has happened to her and her family since. She believes Mike owes her the life that he has built for himself. She wants what he has and what she believes he stopped her from having when he testified against her husband. But her hate and revenge runs much deeper than taking away his possessions and everything he has managed to achieve; she wants to destroy him and his life. She wants to destroy everything and everyone she thinks Mike loves and cherishes - his house, his family, his career. She wants him to suffer as she believes her husband must have suffered. She is systematically forcing Mike to destroy everything he has achieved in his life, and she is using Steve to do it."

"Did Mike say how seriously Steve is…" Before Rudy could complete his question, he was interrupted by the phone. Grabbing it, he snapped into the receiver, "Olsen."

Lenny and Roy turned and watched as Rudy listened to the caller, his knuckles whitening as his hand tightened around the phone before growling angrily at the caller, "How the hell did you lose her?... No, one of you stay with the car while the other finds out where that damn tram was going!" Slamming down the phone, he looked across at Lenny as he spoke. "She must have spotted the tail we put on her at the house. Tanner and Haseejian lost her at Pier 39. They believe she gave them the slip after she dumped the car and caught a tram."

"With the level of her paranoia and her hatred of Mike, if she did spot the tail on her, then I'm afraid we could be running out of time to find where she is holding Steve and Mike," Lenny softly answering his unspoken question.

* * *

"The nerve...getting me up before noon...damn city…" the older, gray-haired, portly, and sloppily-dressed man mumbled under his breath as he climbed the stairs to the house he owned. The property could barely be called a dwelling as no one lived in it - nor could. The house had been abandoned by the last tenants sometime in the 1960s after the place feel to disrepair and Mr. Grumpy refused to open his wallet to bring it up to code. Since then, it has sat empty and boarded up, save for the occasional rat, stray cat, or squatter, the latter of which was about the only reason he ever even came to the property. The other reason was things like what caused today's trip - The City.

In an effort to clean up some of its more run-down areas, San Francisco officials were going around and imposing fines and jail time on homeowners whose property was dangerous or an overall eyesore. Often, as was the case with Mr. Grumpy, they would agree to meet with the property owner to discuss repairs and ways to avoid fines. Not wanting to spend a dime either way, he chose to meet and argue with the officials face to face. So he threw on clothes that made him look like the local junk man and drove to the property in question, grumbling all the way. _All the other houses on the street look just as bad. Half of them are abandoned. Why are they picking on me?_

Once inside, Mr. Grumpy strolled around the first floor, careful to avoid the gaping holes in the floor. He kicked around some trash left behind by some hobos but saw nothing else really wrong. Sure, the paint was peeling...and a couple walls were gone, but that just made the room bigger. And the plants and weeds that were growing in the windows that were still intact made for nice window boxes. All the cobwebs full of spider egg sacks? Early Halloween decorations. Okay, so maybe the place did need plumbing and electricity, but what was so wrong with a bucket and a candle?

"Rustic. That's what it is. Rustic. Think all those Gold Rush fools lived with water and lights? No way. And they lived. Someone might like that in a house," he muttered to himself while descending the stairs. After looking all around the concrete tomb, he turned and saw the door to the laundry and utility area was closed.

"Damn bums. Can't they leave my stuff alone?" Approaching the door as he complained, he placed his hand on the knob and found the door locked. "What the hell? God damn…" Fishing for his keys in his pants pocket, he found the correct one and unlocked the door. Upon entering, he initially found nothing out of the ordinary. Place smelled and looked the same as it always had. He almost left, but as he had turned back toward the door, something caught his eye. There appeared to be something lying on the floor. Curious, and hoping it wasn't going to attack, he tiptoed over there to get a closer look. Much to his surprise, it wasn't covered in fur.

"Holy shit," he muttered, backed up, and ran out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

* * *

Quickly placing the receiver on the cradle, Lee bolted up from the seat at his desk and bounded over to Mike's office. He hesitated at first, seeing as how his superiors looked quite displeased about something, but the information he had was extremely important, so he took a chance.

"Lieutenant, Captain?" he announced, barging in.

"Lessing, we're a little busy here," Roy growled.

"I know, Sir, but this could be important to the case."

"What is it?" Rudy asked, appearing a little less perturbed at being interrupted.

"A call just came through of a possible DOB in the basement of an abandoned house. A motorcycle unit was patrolling close by and stopped to investigate. It's Steve. Well, it sounds like Steve anyway. The officer doesn't know the inspector, but it sure sounds like him."

The two men stopped breathing and fixated on Lee's face. Once the shock wore off, Rudy found his voice and shouted, "Well what are we waiting for?!" Everyone took off running toward the exit.

* * *

"I told you, I haven't been to check on the house for a couple of months. It's not like I had any tenants in it, but the damn city just couldn't leave me alone. 'Clean it up,' they said, 'or get fined,' " The landlord complained, scratching his backside as he led the homicide officers into the old rundown house and to the locked laundry door. "And what do I find when I get here to tidy it up a little before the damn greedy, money-grabbing housing inspector turns up? I will tell you what the hell I find. I find the house has been taken over by squatters and a god damn body in my laundry!" he complained as he inserted the key into the lock and unlocked the door, mumbling, "That's what I found!"

Distractedly thanking the grumbling landlord in a firm dismissal, Roy nodded for one of the uniformed officers to escort him back outside before he turned and nodded at Lee and the other officers with him in a silent order to be prepared. Slowly, he turned the door handle and carefully pushed the door open.

The distant sound of the door unlocking pulled Steve from the comforting dark cocoon from into which he had managed to escape. He whimpered as consciousness returned and the pain greeted him more intensely than before. The pain...It was everywhere! It was alive! And it was clawing and chewing at his insides, like a thousand meat eating ants, trying to eat him alive. He was unable to stop the agonized groan that slipped between his lips as he rolled over onto his side and drew his knees up to his chest in a desperate attempt to relieve his unending pain. He could feel his own hot tears trickle down his face as he turned his head and tried to press his hot, flushed face against the cold cement floor.

He was no longer bound. He resisted the urge to laugh as the realization flittered through his thoughts. There was no need to restrain him anymore. There was no fear that he was going to escape. He was dying and death was agonizingly painful and slow. Whimpering as he drew in a shallow breath, his ribs screaming in protest. Closing his eyes, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Mike… I tried…" He breathed as he allowed himself to slide into beckoning darkness. "I really tried...I'm sorry, Mike…" he moaned again as his world disappeared.

Opening the door, Roy looked around and then stared at the bloodied and beaten body of his missing inspector. "Steve!" he yelled as he ran across the small distance that separated them. Dropping to his knees, he pressed his fingers against Steve's too cool neck, desperately feeling for a pulse. It seemed like an eternity before he felt the weak throb he felt beneath his fingertips. Looking up at the men standing at the door, he yelled, "Get a damn bus here, now!"


	13. Chapter 13

Staring straight ahead, Mike remained silent, not willing to do or say anything that might antagonize the highly unstable and volatile woman who was sitting beside him. The initial surprise and then the elation he had felt after talking to Lenny had quickly morphed into fear when he realized that she had spotted whoever had been assigned to tail them. Turning his head slightly to stare out the tram window, he was unable to stop worrying about the repercussions Steve was now enduring.

The sudden unmistakable sensation of the hard barrel of a gun jabbed painfully into his side caused him to jump, and he turned to find himself staring into Angela's icy-cold blue eyes.

"Get up," she ordered him. "We're getting off at the next stop."

Swallowing hard, Mike slowly stood up as Angela stood, the gun - hidden beneath the coat Angela was wearing - still pressed firmly against his side. Grabbing his arm, she whispered, "Just remember, Stone, if you try to be a hero, there is going to be a lot of dead people on this tram, and you will be first." She then forced him to step into the aisle in front of her as they exited the tram when it came to a stop.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Angela paused and looked around. She nodded to herself as she realized that they were on the right street. Still clutching Mike's arm, she jabbed the gun against his ribs and nodded east down Chestnut Street. "That way!"

Turning in the direction she had ordered him to go, Mike began to walk silently beside her, uncertain of just where they were headed or if Steve would even be there when they arrived.

"It was a trap! A God damn trap, and I was an idiot and walked right into it!" Angela muttered angrily to herself as she hurried Mike along the sidewalk, her hold on his arm tightening, bruising the skin beneath. "They were waiting for us."

Casting a quick, covert glance at the agitated woman beside him, Mike swallowed a grimace as the gun dug painfully into his side. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything that might inflame the situation any more than it already was. He couldn't take the risk of enraging her any further; he wouldn't risk endangering Steve any more than he already had. Until he knew what had happened to Steve or saw him again, he would continue to carry out her demands.

"In here."

Angela's cold order caught him by surprise as she roughly turned and pushed him through the doorway of the Horse's Head Tavern, causing him to stumble slightly as they entered the small, dimly-lit bar.

Hearing the entrance door open behind him as he was restocking the bar, the owner placed the bottle he held in his hand onto a shelf before he turned towards the door. "We're not open yet. You'll have to come back later…" he growled in annoyance as he watched the couple enter and thread their way through the empty chairs and tables while making their way towards the bar. "Ohh, it's you," he sighed, instantly recognizing the woman and frowning as he found himself staring at the almost childish wig she was wearing. He glanced at the man whom she was clutched onto.

"Are the rooms ready?" she snapped.

Returning his attention back to the woman standing in front of him, he nodded. "Been ready for a week. Was starting to wonder if you were…." He shrugged as her hold on her partner's arm tightened and she steered him around the bar towards the door that lead to the backrooms of the bar and the stairs that went up to the rooms above. "The keys are on the table," he called after them as they walked through the doorway, slamming it closed behind them.

Turning back to finish stocking the bar, he shook his head. He had had some scary people rent the rooms above before, but that woman was more than scary; she was downright terrifying. And her sons… a cold shiver of fear rippled through his soul. But they had paid a month in advance in cold hard cash with an extra thousand for him to mind his own business and keep his mouth shut. Picking up the bottle of bourbon, he paused and glanced across at the closed door. Shaking his head, he silently admitted to himself that the thousand dollars, while a nice little bonus, had not actually been needed to buy his silence; the woman and her sons were terrifying enough that he didn't want to know or even think about what activities they were involved in.

* * *

Taking a small step back to keep out of the tow truck driver's way, Norm silently watched as the abandoned car was carefully loaded onto the flatbed truck to be taken to the police impound compound where it could be searched for clues. He sighed as he turned to look at Bill, who was standing beside him. "I can't believe that she managed to give us the slip so fast."

"Yeah," Bill answered slowly as he turned back and stared at the busy wharf. He frowned and began to walk back in the direction where they had last spotted the woman and Mike.

"Think she had another car ready as a backup just in case she was tailed?" Norm asked.

Bill's frown deepened as he shook his head, dodging around several tourists - with Norm close behind - as he made his way to the other end of the bars, shops, and other attractions that lined the famous tourist wharf. Reaching the exit that they had spotted Mike and the woman leave through, the San Francisco Police sergeant paused and stared at the cable car stop just a short distance down the road. Turning back to Bill, he asked, "Didn't we see a cable car go past just after we lost them?"

"I think so…" Bill answered hesitantly as he stared at the stop before turning and slapping Norm on the shoulder, "You're right, there was."

"I wonder if the driver would remember a couple fitting Mike's and the woman's descriptions getting on."

Bill smiled as they turned and hurried back towards their car, finishing Norm's sentence along the way. "And maybe where they got off!"

* * *

Rudy sat staring at the wall in front of him, an ice-cold styrofoam cup of what used to be coffee in his hands. Roy had tried sitting, but his anger and anxiety got to be too much, so he took up pacing the floor, his hands in his pockets and his head down. Jeannie, who had arrived some time later after receiving a partially relieving call, was sitting on the other side of the room absentmindedly playing with the strap of her purse. Instead of worrying about two missing people, now she was worried about a dying one and one still in the wind. She honestly couldn't tell which felt worse.

All three watched people walk in and out for what seemed like a year. It was as if they had put their name in for a table at a busy restaurant and then were constantly passed over for parties who came in after. Once, a group came in and spent an hour talking and laughing, a practice that Jeannie found despicable given the circumstances of her situation. She so badly wanted to scream at the people but had to remember that not only cops who have been kidnapped and beaten within an inch of their lives were using the hospital; it just seemed that way. It seemed that way to all three. It felt like the world had somehow stopped and only they continued to exist.

Finally, two men, dressed in white lab coats, came out and sought the trio. As the taller man shook everyone's hands, he introduced himself and his colleague. "I'm Dr. Pinter, and this is Dr. McNamara. We were both in the operating room with Mr. Keller."

"How's he doing? What are his chances? When can we see him?" Jeannie asked, her nervousness coming out in a quick rant.

"Not for a while, I'm afraid. He suffered numerous internal injuries and is currently in the ICU. We'll have to take him back into surgery later after his body has had time to start recovering from what we just did," Dr. Pinter explained.

"ICU? What happened to him out there?" Rudy asked.

"My best guess would be severe beating, most likely with either a steel-toed boot or some kind of blunt object. He has several broken ribs, two of which punctured his left lung. That's what we just fixed. He also has a lacerated liver that we had to patch up. The severity of the beating left him with internal bleeding in several locations and numerous broken bones. Those are what we'll have to go back in and repair, but we felt doing all that at once would be too much for Mr. Keller's system to take. There also appears to be some ligament damage to his wrists that we'll have to explore later. Right now he's critical but stable," Dr. McNamara told the three.

"Ligament damage? From being bound?" Roy inquired.

"Looks more like he was hanging from something while bound. This kind of damage would not have resulted from simply having his hands tied behind his back. Gravity was definitely working against him," Dr. Pinter answered.

"What about the gunshot wound? He lost a lot of blood at the scene, and we realized he must have been shot initially," Rudy told the doctors.

Dr. McNamara nodded. "We were able to stitch that up as well, although it looks like someone had tried to stop the bleeding before. It helped save him from further blood loss, which after all his internal injuries, he did not need. We had to give him a couple liters in the OR as it was."

"But he's going to be alright?" Jeannie asked, hoping to reassure herself.

Nodding, Dr. Pinter told her, "He's far from out of the woods, and many things could go wrong in the next 24 hours, but I have hope for a full, though not speedy, recovery. We'll let you know when you can see him, though it will be quite a while, so if you all need to catch some sleep, now would be a good time."

The two physicians then shook hands with the group again and took their leave. Roy turned to Rudy. "Why don't you stay here in case anything changes. I'll head back to the station and see if Norm and Bill have managed to learn how to do their jobs and find Mike."

"Hey, what about that sleep I'm supposed to catch?" Rudy joked.

Roy smirked and pointed at a chair behind them. "Looks like a nice spot for a nap."

Rudy grumbled, "Now wait a minute. Who outranks who here?"

"If you want to run all over town, be my guest!" Without even getting a response, he turned to Jeannie and asked her if she needed a ride somewhere.

"I really don't have anywhere to go, now do I? I'll stay here and keep Rudy company."


	14. Chapter 14

Reaching the landing, Mike hesitated, uncertain of where he should go. He felt the small gun press against his spine as Angela softly ordered close to his ear, "First door on the right. Now hurry up and get inside."

Mike nodded silently as he crossed to the door and opened it, stepping inside with Angela following close behind. He paused after taking a few steps into the room and waited for Angela's next order as he heard the door slam closed behind him.

"Get over there, face the wall," Angela growled as she roughly shoved him with one hand toward the wall.

Mike stumbled slightly before quickly regaining his balance as he walked across to the wall and stood facing it. He listened to Angela moving around behind him before he heard her soft footsteps cross the room.

"Now hands behind your back, and don't think of doing anything stupid, not if you want to see Keller alive ever again."

Swallowing hard, Mike slowly put his hands behind his back, jumping slightly as he felt the cold metal handcuffs painfully click close around both wrists.

"Now turn around slowly and sit down on the floor, ankles crossed," Angela instructed him coldly.

Turning around and using the wall to support him, Mike slowly slid down onto the floor before straightening his legs out and crossing his ankles. Looking up at the woman who now towered above him, he felt a small ripple of fear chill his soul. Her eyes shone brightly with her hatred and anger as she glared down at him.

"You probably think you were so clever, don't you?" she hissed, lifting her foot back and kicking him as hard as she could. He stifled a pain-filled gasp as a white-hot pain shot through his leg while she continued to rant. "So, so clever, letting me walk into that trap!"

"I didn't know…"

"Don't give me that!" she snarled through clenched teeth as she kicked him again. "I don't believe you. You knew!" Her voice rose in volume and anger as she kicked him a third time, his moan of pain only infuriating her more. "You damn well knew it was a trap, and you let me walk right into to it! I bet that buyer was another cop!"

"I didn't know, Angela," Mike groaned as pain radiated up and down his leg. "The buyer wasn't a cop; he was a just a man who saw the 'For Sale' sign outside and was interested in buying the house."

"You're lying!" Angela spat out as she raised her foot to kick him again.

"No…no, I'm not," Mike said desperately as he looked up at the furious woman. "Think about it. Why would I allow you to walk into a trap? Not when you have Steve." Lowering his voice, Mike continued softly, silently praying that she would believe him and too acutely aware that Steve's life depended on it. "Please think about it Angela. Shawn was a cop, so you know how cops handle situations like this. They know Steve is missing, and suddenly I resign. They must be wondering if Steve's disappearance and my resignation are connected." He paused and glanced up at her, relieved to find that she was listening to him as he continued to explain what might have happened back at the house. "We both know my superiors would have tried to contact me to find out what was going on and when they couldn't…maybe Jeannie contacted them looking for me after she got the letter…"

"So they went to your house," Angela muttered.

"They must have been suspicious when they saw the house for sale," Mike told her, unsure if he was feeding the flame of her anger.

"And the bastards staked the house out in case you returned." Angela breathed as she realized that her eagerness to sell the house had made her sloppy, and she was the reason why they had been followed.

Mike simply nodded and waited, expecting another temper-fuelled kick. He held his breath, watching her warily, as she turned and began to pace the room. He waited several minutes until her agitated pacing slowed and she seemed to calm down a little before he softly asked the question that had terrified him as soon as he had realized that she had spotted a tail. "What's going to happen to Steve?"

He held his breath as she paused her pacing and slowly turned back toward him. "That depends entirely on you, Mike, and if you continue to do as you are told," she warned him softly before she smiled and walked back to where he was sitting, crouching a few feet away. Smiling coldly, she said, "You see, my plan to sell your house was just to give you a taste of what it is like to lose not only the one person you love more than life itself but also the house you consider your home and be left with nothing. The money I would have gotten from selling your house was just going to give my boys and me a little extra spending money, but there is no use crying over spilled milk, is there?  
You see, I have one more little job for you to do, and this job is important. If you mess this job up, I promise you that your boy Keller won't survive the beating my boys will give him. And I will force you to watch every punch, every kick that my boys inflict on your partner as he slowly and painfully dies in front of your eyes. Then I promise your precious daughter will be next…"

Mike unconsciously sucked in a breath as the horror of what she was dangling over his head sunk in before he managed to force the words out through his tightened throat. "What sort of job?"

"You are going to rob a bank, Lieutenant Stone, and not just any bank but the Bank of America. You see, a little birdy told me that the Bank of America is the bank used by SFPD to pay cops. And we both know tomorrow is San Francisco Police Department's payday." Angela grinned as she rose to her feet and watched Mike gasp and shake his head in disbelief. Laughing with utter contempt, she felt toward him as she looked down at him, adding, "And you, Lieutenant Michael Stone, are going to make me and my sons very, very rich. Although, regrettably, you may spend the rest of your life in jail just like my Shawn did, but I think you agree that that is a fair exchange for the lives of your partner and your daughter, don't you?"

* * *

Able to quickly locate the driver, Bill and Norm stood and interviewed him, hoping he was at least observant enough to have seen where Mike and Angela headed.

"Did I notice them? Of course I noticed them! After all these years doing this job, most people look like a blur to me, but not them. The look on that man's face…"

"What about it?" Norm asked.

"He looked scared to death. And that woman he was with. She was just standing so close to him, and had quite the hold on his arm, like she was afraid he would get away. Never left his side."

Both Norm and Bill nodded knowingly. "Did you see if she had anything in her hand?" Bill asked.

"You mean like a gun? Like he was being held against his will? I thought you only saw that stuff in the movies."

"Unfortunately not. Did it look like she had one?"

The driver shook his head. "Not that I saw, but it wouldn't surprise me by the look on his face.'

"Since you remember them getting on, do you remember them getting off?"

Nodding, the driver told them, "You bet I did. Got off on Chestnut and walked east. I think they were headed toward the Horse's Head Tavern. Wouldn't surprise me any; that place has a reputation. Consider the name, boys."

The two Homicide inspectors thanked the man and decided their next move was to head to Chestnut and the Horse's Head Tavern. As they walked into the dank watering hole, they looked around and saw mostly barflies who looked like they had been there since the 60's. There was no sign of Mike.

Approaching the bar, Norm flashed his badge to the bartender and introduced himself and Bill. He then pulled out a picture of Mike and asked the man if he had seen Mike today.

"Ain't seen nobody like that today...or any other day."

"How 'bout you look again," Norm stated in no uncertain terms.

"I'm tellin' ya, I ain't seen him. Only guys I seen are the ones yer lookin' at. Only been open an hour."

Bill stepped in. "How about a woman? White, late 40's, early 50's, with reddish hair. Seen her today?"

"If I'd seen a woman like that here, I'd remember. Only woman I seen is right over there playin' pool." He pointed toward the back of the place where a rather large, rotund woman in leather was shooting pool with a man who looked like Santa's criminal brother. Bill and Norm gave each other a discouraged look.

Bill then looked up at the ceiling. "Are there rooms upstairs? I noticed there're windows up there."

The bartender nodded. "Owner rents 'em out, but I don't think there's anyone up there now. Hasn't been for 'bout a week."

While this discussion was happening, Angela's youngest wandered in through the front door. Despite not looking old enough to be in such an establishment, no one batted an eye. In fact, no one even noticed him, but he noticed the two "suits: at the bar asking questions about a woman fitting his mother's description. As Norm told the bartender to be on the lookout for the woman and man, the boy walked casually behind them. He wanted - and needed - to run upstairs and alert his mother, but that would just arouse more suspicion, so he ambled through the bar as if he was a daily patron. He then pulled out a key to the upstairs, unlocked the door, shut it quietly behind him, and tiptoed up the stairs before finding his mother in a room with Mike.

"Uh, Mom. We have a problem," he uttered.


	15. Chapter 15

Angela hurried out of the room, pushing her son David out of the way as she did. What she didn't do was close the door all the way, allowing Mike to overhear their conversation. "Don't you come in here in front of him saying something like that!" she reprimanded.

Looking sheepishly at his livid mother, he muttered, "Sorry, but we do have a big problem."

"What is it?"

"There's a couple cops downstairs."

Angela stared at the boy for several moments before finally squeaking out, "Cops? Right below us?"

"Not just there; there's a bunch at the house as well. I think they found that other guy."

Now livid, she growled, "What do you mean the cops found him? How the hell did that happen? Did you or your idiot brother lead them there…"

"No! Swear. I never saw one cop. Hell if I know how they got there!" David interrupted.

Mike wasn't sure what to make of the revelation. It was good news that someone had found Steve, but Mike still didn't know if they had found him alive or dead. As he sat listening to the bickering family members, he decided that at that very moment, it didn't matter. Their leverage was gone from their possession, and they had nothing left to hold over his head. He didn't have to rob a bank for them; he didn't have to do anything.

After a bit more anger from Angela, she stormed back into the room, grabbed her gun, and pointed it straight at Mike's chest. "Get up! We're getting out of here."

Mike stayed stuck to the floor without saying a word.

"Are you deaf?" David chimed in. "She said get up!"

Shrugging, Mike slowly got to his feet and, before anyone had a chance to register what was happening, lunged right at Angela. His hit made her fall backward to the ground, the gun still in her hand. David reacted quickly by throwing a punch at Mike's stomach. He momentarily doubled over but soon came back swinging himself. The two got into an improvisational boxing match while Angela lay on the floor, having a difficult time getting up due to a sharp pain rushing through her back. She tried shooting Mike, but at every attempt, David got in her way.

* * *

Turning away from the uninterested barman at the bar, Norm glanced around the room as he asked quietly, "What now?"

Gazing across the room at the pool table, Bill saw a woman suddenly slam her pool cue down onto the ground and begin to swear loudly, claiming the slate had to be "fuckin' warped" or else her partner must have "deliberately bumped the fuckin' table after missing her shot" and she should "knock him from here into tomorra for cheatin'." Turning back to Norm, Bill smiled and said, "Why don't you check with the Minnesota Fats wannabe and his beautiful wife to see if they have seen Mike and the woman while I check with Chuckles and his friends at the end of the bar."

Glancing at the already three-quarters inebriated man at the end of the bar - who was literally crying into his drink while two other men told him loudly how lucky he was to discover his girlfriend was a cheating whore before they got married - Norm sighed and nodded. He turned back to the couple at the pool table and said, "If she takes me out with that pool cue, I am going to come back and haunt you." He reluctantly headed across to the pool table to talk to the still arguing couple.

Grinning as he watched Norm walk away, Bill shook his head and smothered his smile before he turned and walked across to the three men sitting at the end of the bar. He flipped open his ID and badge as he introduced himself. "Inspector Tanner, Homicide." Placing the photo of Mike and the sketch of Angela onto the bar in front of them, he asked, "I am wondering if any of you gentlemen saw this couple come into the bar this afternoon."

Staring blearily at the two faces in the photo, the drunk slurred, "Is that the sugar daddy who has got his claws into my sweet little Gloria?"

"She sure ain't the girl you showed us in your photo," one of his companions told him before picking up the sketch of Angela and giving a theatrical shiver. Looking back up at Bill, he said, "I would remember if I saw her…just her drawin's gunna give me nightmares. Ain't seen either of them around here."

"Me neither." the third man agreed, glancing at Mike's photo before he turned and stared at the drawing in his friend's hand. "Why are you lookin' for them anyway? They kill someone?"

"We are just wanting to talk to them," Bill answered as he picked up Mike's photo and began to reach for the sketch of Angela, spinning around to look at Norm as yelling and the sound of some sort of a fight upstairs reverberated around the bar.

"What the Hell!" the barman muttered, reaching beneath the bar for the baseball bat he kept there to break up fights and to deal with any other trouble.

"I thought you said there was no one up there," Bill growled as he ran towards the door behind the bar.

"I thought the rooms were empty," the barman replied, turning to hurry after the cop.

"Well they're not," Norm barked, grabbing the barman and halting his egress out of the bar. "Stay here!" he ordered, glaring over his shoulder at the barman and the bar patrons before he turned and hurried out of the bar after Bill.

Taking the stairs that led up to the rooms above two by two, Norm and Bill quickly moved down the corridor to the room from where the sounds of a fight going on inside were coming. Taking up their positions on both sides of the door, and unholstering their guns in preparation to go in, Norm looked across at Bill as more sounds of a violent struggle and female screaming on the other side of the door echoed down the corridor.

Holding up three fingers, Bill silently counted down before he turned and kicked open the door, going in low as Norm followed him in high shouting, "Police!"

Shoving Mike roughly onto the floor, David turned and snatched the gun from his mother's hand as he heard the door burst open behind him. Spinning back towards Mike, he pointed the gun down at the stunned man whom he hated the most in the world as one of the pigs behind him yelled, "Don't do it!"

"Shoot him, David, shoot the bastard! He killed your father!" Angela screamed at her son hysterically. "Shoot him!"

"Drop your weapon!" Bill yelled again, aiming his gun at the boy as Norm quickly stepped behind him and grabbed the woman, who began clawing and hitting him as she continued to yell. "Do it! Do it!"

"Drop it or I'll shoot!" Bill yelled again.

"Say goodbye, cop! See you in Hell!" David softly told Mike as Mike tried desperately to move away. He smiled coldly as he pulled the trigger a millisecond before a second shot rang out and his body jerked before he toppled to the ground.


	16. Chapter 16

The second seemed to last an eternity. Suddenly for Mike, everything was going in slow motion. Norm struggling with Angela. David threatening to shoot him. Bill threatening to shoot David. When it was all said and done, he wasn't completely sure what had actually happened.

He saw blood and smelled gun powder. Was it his blood? Whose gun went off? He couldn't be sure if there had been one shot or two. He was lying on the ground and he felt some pain, but just where was it coming from? Nothing became clear until he felt a hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice asking if he was okay.

"Mike! Mike, can you hear me? Are you hurt, Mike?" Bill asked, shaking his boss' shoulder repeatedly.

The fog cleared enough for the older man to look up at his inspector. "Was I shot?" he asked.

Moving his head up and down Mike's body, he saw no blood. "I don't think so. I think I got the kid first. Can't you tell?"

"Something hurts," Mike muttered, attempting to sit up. At that moment, he realized what it was that pained him so much. He put his hands on the side of his head and let out a groan. "Think I hit my head." He then patted himself up and down, surprised to find he was all in one piece. Looking up and across the room, he saw Angela's son lying in a pool of blood.

"Didn't give me a choice," Bill explained.

"Not surprising."

At that moment, the sounds of a struggle grabbed their attention. Turning toward the door, they saw Norm struggling to keep ahold of Angela, whom he had not been able to cuff. Bill hopped up and tried to assist, but Angela was too feisty and wiggled too much.

"Let go of me, you murderous pigs! You killed my husband and now my son! I'll kill all of you!"

As much as they both wanted to respond, Norm and Bill wisely kept their mouths shut. That is, until Angela kicked Bill in the shin and bit Norm's hand. Both men reacted as any normal person would - winces of pain and a few choice expletives - which Angela used to her advantage.

"She's getting away!" Mike shouted, attempting to get up and go after her himself, but he had hit his head a little harder than he thought, and a dizzy spell stopped him from getting to his feet.

Bill, the least injured, started out after her, but he was already quite a way behind her. However, he got a miracle assist from the bartender. Having heard the shots, he called dispatch himself to tell them there were two detectives upstairs and guns were going off. Then he ran upstairs to see what was going on and to let Norm and Bill know that backup was coming. As he opened the door to the top floor, Angela, who was looking behind her, ran smack into the door, fell backward, and passed out cold from hitting her head on the tile hallway floor.

Norm, who was still muttering under his breath, came out to see what was going on. He and Bill stared at the floor for a moment, not sure of they should laugh or simply peel the future jailhouse resident off the floor.

"Oh man...sorry about that," the bartender apologized quietly. "I didn't expect anyone to be, I dunno, not paying attention."

"No...that's alright. We're good here," Norm told him.

Once Mike felt steady on his feet, he came out to see. "Maybe one of you should call an ambulance," he said matter-of-factly. "She is still an active suspect." Even though she had just put him through hell, he was still all business at the moment, although that moment didn't last long.

Turning to Norm, he asked the sergeant, "What about Steve? Do you find Steve?"

Bill answered his inquiry. "Yeah, yeah they did. Landlord found him. Roy went to the house."

"Was he...he…" Mike couldn't vocalize the horrid possibility.

Nodding, Bill said, "Yeah, he was still alive"

Mike headed for the door, stepping over Angela as if she were merely a rug. "I have to get to the hospital."

Bill grabbed his arm. "Don't you think you should get checked out first? That was a pretty nasty hit you had…"

"I don't care about that!" the lieutenant snapped. "I'm going to the hospital."

He started to walk to the stairs, so Bill looked at Norm for guidance. "Sir, why doesn't Bill take you? I think I can manage these two until backup comes."

Normally, someone would have cracked a joke about Norm being able to handle a dead body and an unconscious woman by himself, but levity was the furthest thing from anyone's mind.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Let's just get going!" Mike growled and headed down to the main floor.

* * *

Glancing across at the anxious man who sat beside him, who was staring out the window as they sped towards the hospital, Bill was uncertain just what to say to reassure Mike that Steve was going to be okay.

"How…how bad?" Mike asked softly, causing Bill to jump and glance at him again. "How bad is he hurt?" Mike asked again as he turned to look at Bill.

"I don't know all the details, Mike, only what Lee managed to tell us over the radio, but from what I have been told, it's bad," Bill answered honestly, returning his attention momentarily to the traffic in front of them. He then quickly cast another sideward look at the man sitting next to him and added softly, "Lee said he's critical. The doctors have done all they can for now. They are waiting for him to rest and hopefully regain enough strength so they can take him back into surgery."

Mike nodded, turning back to stare out the window as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"Steve's a fighter, Mike. We both know he can be stubborn when he wants to be. He's not going to give up; he's going to fight as hard as he can," Bill reminded the upset man, glancing again at the traffic around him before he looked back at Mike and added softly, "What happened today wasn't your fault, Mike. That woman and her son are crazy."

If the older man heard what he said, Mike showed no reaction. Sighing, Bill returned his attention back to the road as he turned the car onto the hospital grounds and parked.

* * *

Rising from her seat, Jeannie wandered across to the ICU room where Steve had been wheeled into minutes before. Leaning against the door, she swallowed a soft sob as she watched a nurse connect Steve up to a heart monitor and slip an oxygen mask over the lower half of his face. A second nurse hung three drips above the bed; two of the clear bags' IV lines snaked down to disappear beneath a dressing at the junction of Steve's neck and shoulder, a third IV containing blood was inserted into the crock of Steve's left arm. Even from the doorway, she could see the white bandages that encircled Steve's right shoulder and chest and a thick plastic tube that emerged from beneath the bandages and disappeared down the side of the bed. Both of Steve's wrists and hands were bandaged and resting on pillows. Her heart sank as she listened to Steve struggling for each breath. Wiping away the tears that started to trickle down her face, she bit her bottom lip hard, reminding herself that she needed to stay strong, not only for Steve but Mike as well, wherever Mike was.

"Jeannie!"

She turned and looked at Rudy as the older man suddenly rose from his chair and headed towards the elevator as the doors slowly slid open.

Slowly following him, she froze in surprise as Bill and her father stepped out and looked around. Mike looked haggard and appeared to have aged twenty years; his shirt and pants were dirty and torn, his face was pale and drawn. "Mike!" she gasped in surprise as she ran across the small foyer and into her father's embrace, hugging him hard, unable to quite believe he was really here and safe. "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?"

"I…I'm fine, Sweetheart," Mike murmured into her hair, kissing her lightly as he held her tight before he drew away just a little and asked, "How… how's Steve?"

He felt Jeannie tense up in his arms, and he quickly looked across at Rudy in alarm.

"He's critical, Mike, but he's alive," Rudy told him softly, nodding across at a room opposite the nurse's station. "They've just brought him down from recovery and are getting him settled in his room. They want him to rest and get some strength back before they take him back to the O.R."

"How…how bad?" Mike whispered, almost choking on the lump in his throat as he forced out the words.

"It's bad, Mike. I honestly thought we had lost him when we found him at the house," Rudy answered truthfully, knowing Mike wanted to hear the full unvarnished truth no matter how hard it was to for him to hear. Nodding towards the chairs that lined the wall, he guided Mike across to them, waiting for his upset lieutenant to sit before he sat down beside him and began. "He wasn't strong enough to withstand a long surgery, so the doctors did what they could and are waiting for him to stabilize and get a little stronger before they take him back into surgery."

"How bad?" Mike asked again as Jeannie reach for his hand and squeezed it in a show of silent support.

Rudy sighed as he lifted his hand and ran it over his face, suddenly feeling as old and tired as Mike looked. He reluctantly continued, "He's got broken ribs, a punctured lung, a lacerated liver, internal bleeding, several broken bones, ligament damage to both wrists…as well as the round to his shoulder…he's lost a lot of blood, Mike." Rudy paused and looked towards the room and added softly, "And even after they take him back to the O.R. when he is strong enough to tolerate it, he will still face a lot more surgeries, but the doctors believe if he can make it through the next twenty-four hours, he has a chance for a full recovery. But it's going to be long and painful." Drawing a deep breath, Rudy shook his head, looking at the door to Steve's hospital room before he turning back to Mike and asking, "What did they do to him, Mike? Why did she do it?"

"She wanted revenge, Rudy. She blamed me for everything that happened to her and to Shawn. She blamed me for him going to jail and for his death. She wanted to ruin my life as she believed I had ruined hers. She wanted me to lose my family, my home, my career, and she wanted me to break the law so I would suffer the same fate Shawn had suffered. And she used Steve to try and make sure that it happened."

"Ohh, Mike," Jeannie whispered, squeezing his hand tighter as she tried to blink back the tears while she listened to what her father had just endured at the hands of a woman who could only be insane.

Mike's voice dropped to a whisper as he looked towards the ICU room and added guiltily, "They punished Steve every time I refused to do something. I'm…I'm the reason why Steve is here." Rising from his seat, he released Jeannie's hand as he turned and walked towards Steve's room, stopping when he reached the door. Staring at the nurses who were still hovering around Steve and adjusting the drips and checking all the medical equipment to which Steve was connected, he whispered brokenly, "This is all my fault!"


	17. Chapter 17

Pulling her hand free from Norm's firm grip, Angela snatched the tissue the other officer silently offered her and began to scrub the ink from her fingertips. She then spun around to face him and began to demand loudly, "I want my phone call."

"You can make your call after we finish processing you," Norm told her for the third time since they had arrived at booking, reaching for her arm and quickly re-cuffing her before grabbing her arm.

"I know my rights, and I demand to make my phone call now!" Angela demanded more loudly as she attempted to shrug Norm's hand away.

"And I have told you not until after we finish processing you," Norm stated again as he tightened his hold on her thin arm and led her across to the height chart to be photographed. He quietly warned her, "but the longer you continue not to cooperate with us, the longer it's going to be before you make that call."

"I know my rights! You have no right to refuse me my phone call!" Angela yelled again as she attempted to kick the young officer who stepped forward to hold the board with all her relevant information in front of her chest in preparation for her frontal mugshot.

"And I have already told you that you can make your phone call after we have finished processing you," Norm growled softly as he grabbed her roughly and pulled her back, causing her kick to hit nothing but air before he repositioned her on the cross painted on the floor that indicated where a suspect stood for the mugshot. "And the longer you fight, the longer it's going to be before you get to make that call. And if you try to injure another of my officers again, I will personally place you into a holding cell until you calm down, and you won't be making any call for a couple more hours, understand?"

Scowling at Norm, Angela fell silent, gritting her teeth as she faced the camera and waited until the flash almost blinded her. Turning slowly to the right as she was directed to do, she stood glaring with unadulterated hatred at one of the men who had just brutally murdered her youngest son right in front of her eyes. Her hands balled up into tight fists behind her back as she imagined herself leaping forward and wrapping her hands around his throat, slowly and painfully squeezing the life out of him. Turning around to face the left, she sternly reminded herself that that would have to wait 'til later. First, she had other more important things to take care of.

Spinning back around to face Norm as soon as she heard the camera click and the police photographer tell the scumbag cop that they were done, she demanded again, "Okay, kid killer, I let you finish processing me, now I want to call my phone call. Now!"

Norm sighed. If he had his way, he would happily lock this woman up and throw away the key without allowing her to speak to anyone. But he was a cop, and he was not going to risk allowing some smarmy lawyer to get this woman off just because he had not followed the arrest procedure by the book and had taken too long to allow her to make her one phone call. Not after all she had forced Mike and Steve to endure in her sick attempts of revenge

Grabbing her arm again, he led her back across to the booking desk before he reluctantly uncuffed her hands and snapped, "Who do you want to call?"

Smiling sweetly, Angela winked. "Why, I just want to call my lawyer of course. Who else would I want to call?"

* * *

Norm looked up from the arrest report he was filling as the young, well-dressed man carrying a briefcase entered and paused near the door. Smoothing down the dark blue suit jacket he was wearing and confidently running his hand over his well-kept hair, the young man strode across to the sergeant standing at the booking desk. Pulling out a card from an inside pocket of his jacket, he handed it across the desk to the sergeant as he quietly introduced himself. "Stephen Rollings, Mrs. Hawkins' lawyer. I understand you are holding my client here. May I ask what the charges against my client are?"

Glancing down at the long list of prisoners currently held in custody to make certain that he could accurately tell the lawyer the long list of charges being brought against the woman who had attempted to kill two of their own, Ron located Angela's name before he looked back up, glancing across at Norm who had pushed away the report he was writing and rose from his seat. Returning his attention back to the lawyer as Norm reached the younger man's side, he announced, "Mrs. Hawkins is currently charged with aggravated kidnapping of two police officers, attempted murder of both officers, torture, deprivation of liberty, attempted fraud, and resisting arrest."

"Your client has also been charged with aggravated assault on a police officer, and that's just for starters. If Inspector Keller dies, she will be facing special-circumstances in the murder of a police officer. And that means a needle in the arm." Norm glanced at his colleague and told him quietly as he led him through to the holding cell area, "I will take care of Mr. Rollings, Ron."

"If she is found guilty," the lawyer reminded him as he signed the prisoner visitor's sign-in book and followed Norm to the holding cell area. Reaching the steel-barred interview room door, the lawyer turned and sneered at Norm. "And I don't intend on that happening. Now if you excuse me, I want to talk to my client alone," he announced as he opened the door and stepped into the room before the bars clanged firmly shut behind him.

Standing at the door, he waited until the officer locked the door and walked away before he turned back to the woman at the table watching him with a small triumphant smile on her face.

"Did you have any trouble?" Angela asked as he walked around the table and kissed her cheek.

He shook his head. "No, it went just as you predicted it would. If they decide to check, they will see I'm a lawyer, there's nothing to make them suspect that I am anything more." Walking back around to the other side of the table, he placed the empty briefcase on the table and sat down, frowning. "So, what happened? We had it all planned."

"I don't know." Angela shook her head before she paused, silent for a moment as she stared the door before she suddenly looked back at the young man sitting opposite her and spat out, "I'm betting it was that bastard, Stone! He must have warned the other cops somehow! The bastard somehow set me with a fake buyer and had his friends outside to follow me. And somehow, he also managed to tip them off about where we had his partner, because when David went back to the house to grab Keller, the cops were already swarming all over the place. I don't know how that bastard did it, but this is all his fault!"

Stephen's frown deepened in confusion as he looked across at the furious woman on the other side of the table. He asked, "Where is David? Did he manage to get away?"

"He's dead," Angela answered succinctly as she rose to her feet and wandered across to the barred window, glancing out at the darkening skyline just beyond. She turned back to look at the shocked young man still sitting at the table, staring at her as she reached inside the top of her dress and pulled a paper tissue she had tucked under the strap of her bra, using it to dab a crocodile tear that she allowed to trickle down her face as she whispered, "That cop who brought you here and his partner shot him down like a dog in the street when he was trying to surrender right in front of me before they knocked me unconscious."

"Knocked you unconscious?" Stephen asked concerned. "Are you alright?"

Angela nodded as she rubbed the back of her head, "Yeah, they got their doctor to check me out when I got here, but I don't care what they did to me. Not after I saw what they did to David! They murdered my baby boy in cold blood, just like Stone used the State to murder your father. And now, Stone is going to use the State to murder me."

"That's not going to happen," Stephen told her softly, glancing towards the door to ensure they were still alone before he jumped up from his seat and hurried across to his mother. Wrapping his arms around her, he gently kissed the top of her head as he whispered, "I promise, that's not going to happen."

"And just how are you going to stop it?" Angela demanded as she pulled out of her son's embrace.

Stephen smiled, the same smile his mother smiled each time she had spoken about her plans for revenge as they were growing up after Stone had murdered his father with his contemptuous lies in court. "They have forty-eight to seventy-two hours to bring you before a judge for arraignment…"

"Forty-eight to seventy two hours?" Angela shrieked.

"Shhh," Stephen warned her softly as he darted another furtive look towards the door before he returned his attention back to his mother. "But the cop who brought me upstairs seems pretty confident that they have a strong case against you so I doubt they will wait that long. So, to arraign you, they are going to have to take you to the courthouse…"

Angela nodded. "So?"

"Leave it to me." Stephen smiled as he turned and walked back to the table and picked up his briefcase and called out to the officer to open the door so he could leave. Turning back to his mother, he said softly, "I promise we will get revenge not only for dad but for David as well. Trust me."

Nodding, Angela smiled with pride as she watched Stephen walk across to the door and wait for the officer to reach the interview cell and unlock the door without even looking back at her.


	18. Chapter 18

Mike stood at the door to Steve's room, leaning against the door frame, his hands in his pockets. He had been standing there, unmoving, for at least an hour. Several nurses and doctors made their way past him, some giving sympathetic smiles or pats on the arm. Two of the nurses, along with his boss, daughter, and a couple of coworkers, tried to get him to see one of the doctors to make sure he was alright, but he refused care each and every time. He honestly felt like death warmed over, but he was convinced it had nothing to do with exhaustion, hunger, or dehydration. It was pure guilt.

No matter how many times he ran the scenario over in his head, the only conclusion he could come to was that Steve was about to die because of him. Angela only dragged him into the plan because he was the perfect bait to get Mike to comply. If not for that, Steve wouldn't have been involved at all. Why did she feel like she even needed Steve?

His thoughts drifted to all the things Angela did to ruin his life. In retrospect, Mike decided that he would have likely played along without having someone else's life at stake. He was still playing for his own freedom after all. He felt that, as crazy as Angela was, she still would have let him go once she got what he wanted. Killing him was never her end game anyway - ruining his life was. Him being alone in the world or in prison would have done the trick. There was just no need to involve Steve. None whatsoever. The more he thought, the angrier he got, so he took his frustrations out on the door frame by kicking it.

"Now what did that wood ever do to you?" Jeannie said lightheartedly.

He turned to his right and saw she was walking slowly toward him. Looking down at the ground was his only response.

She wrapped an arm around his waist and laid her head on his arm. "Any change?"

"No," he mumbled.

The two stood that way for what seemed like an eternity until Jeannie softly said, "He's a fighter. He'll pull through. He knows we're all here for him and cheering him on, so he will be...okay." She choked on her words as she uttered them.

Mike didn't even move.

"Have you talked to him?"

"They won't let me in there yet," he told his daughter.

"Ah. Well, when they do, you let him know we're all pulling for him."

Closing his eyes, he muttered, "I'm not sure that'll...that he can hear me."

"Of course he can, Mike." Jeannie paused before asking Mike if she could get him something to eat.

He promptly shook his head.

"Dad, you need to eat something. If you won't get checked out by a doctor, at least put something in your stomach. How 'bout a sandwich and some coffee? I can bring it up here so you don't have to be away from Steve."

Sighing, Mike let out a breath and nodded his okay. He knew at this point, arguing with his daughter would be like yelling at a brick wall to move, and he didn't have the energy for that.

"I won't be long." She turned around and headed back toward the exit of the ICU but stopped and grabbed a loose chair, dragging it over to her father and making him sit down. He chose not to fight that either. He was awfully tired and his legs felt like they were turning into Jello, so he was actually kind of glad he could rest by Steve's door instead of leaning against it.

Though his body was weak, his mind was still racing at a million miles an hour. When it wasn't reliving the whole ordeal, or trying to figure out what Mike could have done differently so that Steve wouldn't be lying in an ICU, it was thinking of the future. It was a bleak future, filled with hatred and absence, both coming from Steve. What must Steve think of him? He had to hate him. He would not be in this mess if not for his so-called friend. How would Steve not hate him? According to the doctors, if he did pull through, he would be enduring many sessions of physical therapy, not to mention the likely nightmares and flashbacks. He may not even be able to go back to work.

So, according to Mike's mind, not only did he subject his partner and the man he considered a son to excruciating pain and possible disability, but he took his means of support away. He might as well have signed the boy's death certificate himself. The future pain Mike himself would have to suffer through when he looked out at the bullpen and did not see Steve sitting at the desk in front of his office was his punishment.

Tired of the discourse in his head, he leaned over, put his head in his hands, and let a few tears escape.


	19. Chapter 19

Opening his eyes and quickly looking around to reacquaint himself with his surroundings, Rudy realized that he must have dozed off sometime during the night. Yawning as he stood up, he stretched the kinks out of his back that came with falling asleep on the uncomfortable chairs that lined the waiting room wall.

"Here," Jeannie said softly, handing him a mug of steaming black coffee that looked more like black tar than a beverage that was meant to be consumed. "I'm afraid it's probably been sitting there all night, but I didn't want to leave Mike or Steve to go hunting for a fresh pot."

"That's okay." Rudy smiled, trying to not grimace as he took a small sip of the liquid. He found himself having to force it down as he lowered the mug and looked across at Mike, who was still sitting on the chair just outside Steve's room. "How are they doing?" he asked quietly as he returned his attention back to Jeannie.

"Not good." Jeannie sighed. "Steve's still unconscious, and they are preparing to take him back into surgery."

Looking across at her father, she bit her bottom lip as a tear began to trickle down her cheek. "And Mike…" Looking back at Rudy, she swallowed hard. "Oh, Rudy, Mike hasn't moved from that chair all night. He only got checked out because the doctor insisted, and he refuses to eat anything I try and offer him. He just sits in the chair and watches Steve."

"Maybe when the doctors say that he can sit with Steve…"

Jeannie glanced back at her father and shook her head. "The doctors told him late last night that he could go in and sit with Steve, but he won't. He thinks Steve wouldn't want him there. Rudy, Mike's blaming himself for everything that happened yesterday, and he's got it in his head that Steve is going to blame him as well."

"Oh, that's ridiculous," Rudy barked without even thinking.

Shrugging and nodding at the same time, Jeannie said, "I think so too, but Steve will have a pretty hard road ahead of him. Healing, rehab…" As she trailed off, she looked at Rudy shyly out of the corner of her eyes. "What if Steve can't return to work? I mean, that's a possibility...right?"

Rudy paused, took a deep breath, and looked off toward Mike. He suddenly realized that yes, that was a possibility, and if it did happen, his lieutenant might not be at his desk much longer. That thought didn't settle with him well. Looking down at his lap, he half nodded.

"It...depends. Steve could make a complete recovery." He looked back up and into Jeannie's eyes. "No. He will make a complete recovery. He's not going to just give up and let those...people...win! But…" Changing his positive tone, he trailed off, leaving Jeannie curious.

"But...what?" A shiver engulfed her body.

"But...it won't happen quite as well without Mike. He won't blame Mike. He won't." Rudy shook his head and looked off in the opposite direction of Steve's room. "Those two have been in bad situations before and gotten through them. And not once has either placed any blame on the other. No. Mike's worrying for nothing."

Jeannie wanted to ask him whom he was trying to convince, but instead she asked, "You think you can convince Mike of that?"

* * *

"Arraignment case 1034, Judge, State of California verses Angela Hawkins. The charges are two counts of aggravated kidnapping of two police offices, the attempted murder of the two same officers, although due to the precarious medical condition of one of the victims one of the charges of attempted murder may be upgraded at a later date to murder in the first degree, two counts of derivation of liberty, one count of torture, one count of attempted fraud and one count of resisting arrest and assault against the arresting officer," the court clerk told the judge, passing him the file before taking his position of standing beside the judge's bench with his hands neatly crossed behind his back.

He looked across at the immaculately-dressed but scared and bewildered-looking woman who was silently sitting at the defendant's desk dabbing her eyes with a neatly-folded white handkerchief then turned his attention to the young lawyer sitting beside her. "Mr. Rollings, how does your client plead?" he asked.

"Not guilty, your Honor," Stephen answered as he rose to his feet. "My client was under duress due to her dominating and often extremely-violent son, who forced her to help him commit these horrendous crimes. She feared for her own life if she did not cooperate."

"She was forced to help commit these crimes?" the prosecutor's eyes went wide in surprise as he rose from his seat and stared at the defendant's lawyer. Turning back to the judge, he began to refute the defendant's lies. "Your Honor, we have evidence that the defendant not only was the mastermind of this plan to kidnap, torture, and then murder two police officers for her own personal revenge, but she was also a very willing participant in carrying it out. She wanted to make the witness suffer for the death of her husband, whom the officer had testified against in a court case that sent her husband to jail, where he later died. Our witness will get up in court and testify how she had tortured his partner in front of him in an attempt to force him, not only to give up his career and cut all ties with family and friends in the attempt to destroy his life as he knows it, but also to sell his home so she could take the money for the sale for herself. Not only did she want to destroy his livelihood, she planned to later force him to rob a bank to ensure that he would be sent to jail in the hopes that he would suffer the same fate as her husband."

"Your Honor, my client is just as much a victim as the two police officers." Stephen's voice rose over the prosecutor's. "She knew if she did not cooperate with her son's insane plans for revenge for what had happened to his father, then she would suffer the same fate as the two officers…"

Staring at Stephen in total disbelief at the blatant lies, the prosecutor argued, "When officers discovered the whereabouts of your client, her son, David, and Lieutenant Stone, one of the victims, Mrs. Hawkins' son was aiming a gun at Lieutenant Stone and the defendant was yelling at him to shoot Lieutenant Stone, who was laying helpless on the floor."

Glaring at the prosecutor, Stephen loudly contradicted the evidence being presented against his mother. "My client was not yelling at her son to shoot," he started, looking back at the judge as he continued, "No, your Honor, she was begging the officers who entered the room to shoot her own son to stop him from carrying out such a dreadful deed."

"She tried to escape and attacked one of the arresting officers when he stopped her!" the prosecutor snorted.

"She was terrified," Stephen countered forcefully. "The officers did not just shoot her son to stop the threat, they shot and killed him in front of her eyes!"

"Gentlemen, that's enough! Save arguing the case for when it goes in front of a jury!" the judge growled in annoyance before he looked across at the prosecutor. "So what are you wanting?"

"Your Honor, given the seriousness of the charges and the threat the defendant still may pose to both of the victims, we would like her remanded without bail to the County Jail."

"Your Honor, my client has endured years of abuse and intimidation at the hands of first, an abusive husband, and then at the hands of a very controlling and ruthless son. I have had her assessed by a psychiatrist who is willing to swear that she is suffering from all the classic symptoms of Battered Person Syndrome. I have included his report in the preliminary court files, and I have sent a copy of his report across to my esteemed colleagues in the District Attorney's office this morning as soon as I received it myself."

"Battered Person Syndrome?" The judge frowned.

"It's a psychiatric condition which usually manifests itself in victims of prolonged and severe emotional, physical, and mental abuse at the hands of a loved one, your Honor. In this case, the perpetrators were my client's husband and son," Stephen explained before he continued. "I am not asking for bail for my client, but I am asking that instead of being remanded to County Jail to await trial that she be remanded to the secure psychiatric ward at San Francisco General Hospital where she can be assessed and receive treatment."

"What are you doing?" Angela gasped softly in alarm as she tugged at Stephen's coat sleeve as the judge put on his glasses and looked down at the file.

Leaning down, while keeping his eyes on the judge, Stephen whispered, "Shh, you have to trust me."

Straightening back up as the judge looked and removed his glasses, Stephen held his breath as the judge nodded, "I agree with the prosecution that Mrs. Hawkins should be remanded without bail." Looking across at Stephen, the judge also added, "But saying that, I agree with you, Mr. Rollings, that your client should be remanded to the secure psychiatric ward in San Francisco General Hospital for assessment and treatment while awaiting trial."

"Thank you, your Honor." Stephen smiled as the next case was called.

"How dare you!" Angela hissed angrily as she rose to her feet. "How dare you have them commit me to a nut house!"

Lifting his hand up in a silent request for the guards to wait for a moment, Stephen turned back to his mother and ordered softly, "Just cooperate and don't cause any trouble. I promise you won't be admitted to any hospital, but you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

Staring at her son for a moment, Angela sighed and slowly nodded. "Okay, I will trust you, but if you let me down like David did…"

"I won't," Stephen promised softly before he nodded to the guards to lead his mother back down to the waiting cells below.


	20. Chapter 20

_Angela backed toward Steve and tilted her head in his direction, ordering loudly, "Get him ready."_

_"What are you going to do with him?" Mike yelled, struggling against the ropes that bound him tightly to the chair as he watched the three men in the room move toward Steve._

_"Why, Mike, that really depends on you and how well you cooperate with us." Angela smiled sweetly as Steve was untied and roughly pulled to his feet. His hands were handcuffed in front of him, and his legs were tightly bound. Mike could only watch as Steve was roughly maneuvered to the center of the room._

"No! No, you can't!" Mike murmured restlessly in his sleep.

_He watched the heavy chain that hung from a thick, exposed wooden ceiling beam. A hook dangling at the end slowly swung back and forth in front of him. Two men lifted Steve's arms into the air while the third man slipped the hook beneath the handcuff chain. Their laughter echoed manically over and over again in Mike's ears as they stepped away quickly, leaving Steve hanging by the handcuffs, his legs giving away from underneath him._

"No!" Mike cried out as he jerked himself awake.

"Mike!" Jeannie gasped as she spun around, startled, when she heard her father cry out. The conversation she was having with Rudy was instantly forgotten.

"Mike, are you okay?" Rudy asked worriedly, following Jeannie across to where Mike was sitting.

Trying to slow down his breathing, Mike ran a shaking hand over his face as he stared into the ICU room at man whom he was responsible for being there in the first place. "Yeah, I…I'm fine," he lied. "Must have dozed off. Just a bad dream."

"Mike, you're shaking!" Jeannie whispered as she knelt beside her father and reached for his hand, surprised at how cold it felt.

"Must have been a doozy of a dream." Rudy frowned with concern as he looked down at Mike's white face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine!" Mike snapped defensively. He took a large, shuddering breath and looked at Jeannie.

"I'm fine, really." He tried to reassure her before giving her a weak smile. "Honest, Sweetheart, it was just a silly dream."

Biting her bottom lip, Jeannie nodded unconvincingly as she cast a quick, apprehensive glance up at Rudy. She then returned her attention to Mike.

"I'm fine, honest." Mike tried again to reassure her, squeezing her hand.

"You heard the man; he's fine." Rudy smiled at Jeannie as he reached for her arm and helped her back up to her feet. He handed her the mug he held that was still full of coffee, nodding toward the half-filled pot of coffee that was still sitting on the table. "But I could use a coffee refill, and I am sure Mike would like one as well."

Frowning, she accepted the full mug but didn't immediately grasp on to why he wanted her to fill a mug that wasn't empty. She furrowed her brow and looked up at him.

Casting a quick glance down at Mike, whose attention was once again focused solely on his partner, Rudy glanced back at Jeannie as he nodded encouragingly and again tilted his head in a silent suggestion that she leave him and Mike alone for a few minutes.

Nodding reluctantly, Jeannie turned and headed across the room, silently praying that Rudy could break through Mike's guilt.

Waiting until Jeannie was out of earshot, Rudy looked down at Mike and asked, "Want to talk about it, Mike?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Mike sighed softly, his eyes never leaving Steve. "It was just a bad dream."

"A dream about what happened yesterday?" Rudy pushed. He waited a moment for Mike to answer, but when Mike remained silent, he frowned. "You know Mike, what happened yesterday wasn't your fault."

Mike shook his head in disagreement as he turned to look up at Rudy. The intense pain and enormous amount of guilt that Mike was carrying that was evident on his friend's face momentarily robbed Rudy of his breath.

Mike whispered brokenly, "Steve's here because of me, Rudy, because some crazy woman decided to use him as a weapon to punish me because she wanted revenge for something that Steve had no part in.

"He was punished every time I refused to cooperate." Mike swallowed hard as he looked back at Steve in the bed and spoke so softly that Rudy almost missed what he was saying. "I knew Steve was shot and had lost a lot of blood, but I still refused to do what she demanded. It was my fault that Steve was tortured; it's my fault that because of that torture, Steve may lose his career as a cop because of his injuries, if he does manage to recover at all." Looking back at Rudy as the anger, disgust, and self-blaming guilt bubbled over, through his tightened throat as his voice shook as it rose not only volume but also in intensity, he said, "I watched as three men hung Steve up by his arms and then beat him when I refused to cooperate with her and sell my house. So, tell me again Rudy, just whose fault is it that Steve is lying in that bed fighting for his life?"

Rudy looked down at Mike in surprise, silently cursing himself for not following proper procedure of debriefing Mike as soon as he should have about what happened. "Did you say there were three men helping her? Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Mike murmured disinterestedly as he turned back to stare at the figure in the bed.

"Mike…" came a faint yet hoarse whisper from inside the ICU room.

The two men's heads snapped up. "Did I hear what I think I heard?" Rudy said in a low grumble.

Silence took over as the two listened for it to happen again. "Mike…" came another pained whisper.

Bolting upright, Mike stood frozen in place, staring at Steve. Rudy, expecting him to rush right in, looked over at his colleague.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Mike answered, his eyes never leaving Steve.

"Well, what are you waiting for, an invitation? You got one! Go in."

"Mike...where...are you…" Steve's head was moving ever so slightly back and forth.

Rudy put his hand on Mike's back and gave the man a gentle push forward. Mike tripped forward a step, but still found himself unable to move.

"Mike…"

"It will be okay," Rudy said, now patting his friend on the back. "He's probably not fully awake anyway. Trust me."

Glancing back at his captain, Mike nodded slightly, turned back to the darkened room, and wandered over to Steve's bed, acting like a little kid approaching a closet with a monster in it. Finally arriving at the bed, he heard Steve mumble his name again, so he gingerly took the young man's hand and gripped it tightly, telling him, "I'm here, Steve."

Steve's head started rolling at an increased pace. "Mike, where are you?" he whispered, his voice more hoarse than it was seconds ago.

"I'm right here, Buddy Boy," Mike replied, squeezing Steve's hand harder. "I'm right here. You're safe now."

"Don't...don't leave me here, Mike."

"I'm not leaving you. I'm staying right here."

He smiled a weak smile that did not go unnoticed by Rudy. The older man quickly stepped in the room, grabbed a chair from the corner, and slid it behind Mike.


	21. Chapter 21

Sitting in the back of the police car, Angela dug her fingernails into her palm of her hands - that were still handcuffed behind her back - in anger, drawing blood. She was staring hatefully through the wire screen that separated the front and back seats at the back of the two heads of the officers who were transferring her to the secure psychiatric ward at San Francisco General Hospital. Stephen had promised her at the trial that she would not be admitted to the hospital, yet here she was, being taken by the cops for admission. The little bastard had lied to her!

She turned and sighed, staring out the side window as she contemplated the best way to make her escape once they reached the hospital. There was no way she was going to allow them to ever admit her to a nut ward. Chewing her bottom lip, she frowned. Maybe the best time to try and make an escape was when they opened the car door…

"Dan, watch out!"

A moment before they hit the back of the dark blue car that had suddenly braked in front of them, she turned back toward the officers, startled by the younger officer's warning shout to his partner. The driving officer had no time to take any evasive action to avoid the collision.

Angela cried out in surprise as she was thrown forward, hitting her head on the back of the front seat. "Son of a bitch!" she cursed as she struggled to sit back on the seat. She glared at the driver of the other car as he got out of his car and hurried toward the damaged police car.

"Are you both okay?" Dan asked, glancing at his partner who nodded before looking back at Angela, who ignored him as she stared at the other driver. Satisfied that none of them had been seriously injured, he reached for the door handle and opened the door. Looking back at his partner, he ordered, "Stay here with her and radio it in. I will go talk to the driver and find out what the hell he thought he was doing, braking so suddenly."

Zac nodded and reached for the radio while he watched Dan step out of the car as the other driver approached.

A small smile tugged at Angela's lips. She instantly recognized the other driver as he approached the police car, profusely trying to apologize to the officer for the accident as he reached into his jacket pocket as he walked.

Her smile grew as she heard Dan suddenly yell the desperate warning of "Gun!" a second before two shots rang out and he fell to the ground.

Dropping the mic that he still held in his hand, Zac scrambled to reach for his own weapon as he yelled at Angela to get down. The shooter pointed his weapon toward the officer in the car and fired several shots. The police car's windshield shattered as the bullets struck the glass a millisecond before Zac's body jerked with the impact of each bullet as they struck him in the chest and head.

Laughing at her own silly distrust of Stephen for not doing as he promised, Angela quickly but awkwardly shuffled herself toward the door as the shooter reached the police car and opened it for her. "I should have known you and Stephen would pull something like this to rescue me." She grinned as she began to swing her legs out of the car. When assistance didn't come, she looked up at him and demanded, "Well don't just stand there, you idiot, help me!"

"Stephen said to tell you there's been a little change to the plan." The gunman smiled down at her, raised his gun,and pointed it at her head.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Angela gasped in surprise, her eyes going wide in fear when she realized what was happening. She instinctively fell backward onto the seat and began to try and crawl away from the young man she had always treated as a son.

"Just carrying out Stephen's orders," the gunman told her coldly as he pulled the trigger, firing two rounds point blank at her, killing her instantly. He turned and ran back to his car, ignoring the panicked shouts and terrified screams around him as the sound of distant sirens grew closer.

* * *

Stephen Rollings strolled nonchalantly into the ICU waiting room, a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand. He didn't look any different than anyone else there, save for the natty suit he'd worn in court, but that wasn't enough to garner any attention from anyone in the room, not even the Homicide captain or the lieutenant's daughter. In fact, he had even practiced crying in the car so he would blend in better with the worried waiters. His eyes and face red, he sat down as far from everyone as he could, keeping his head down and his eyes on his coffee. All he needed right now were his ears.

Rudy had rejoined Jeannie in the waiting room to give Mike time alone with his partner. Stephen saw the two happily chatting, which infuriated him. They shouldn't be happy; they should be mourning the loss of their "beloved" friend. Why the hell wasn't that bastard cop dead yet?

He stewed about this for another few minutes until a nurse rushed into the room seeking out Rudy.

"Captain Olsen?" she said to the room, unsure as to whom she was seeking.

Standing up, Rudy said, "Yes?"

"You have a call at the ICU nurses' station. They say it's urgent."

Looking down, he nodded to Jeannie and followed the nurse out of the room. A devious smirk developed on Stephen's face.

Mere moments later, the captain rushed back in and over to Jeannie. "I've gotta go. Something's happened. Why don't you go in and sit with Mike and Steve."

She leapt to her feet. "What happened? You look concerned."

Instead of telling her right there where everyone else could hear no matter how softly he spoke, he waved her out toward Steve's room. Once they were out of earshot, Stephen got up and moved to a seat where he had a better view of them and the room. Unfortunately, the two went into Steve's room, so he couldn't hear what they were saying, but it didn't matter; he knew what was about to happen.

"Mike?" Rudy said, entering the room with Jeannie. "Something's happened, and I need to leave. I think it would be better if Jeannie stayed in here with you." His words came out in a breathless rush.

Mike turned and narrowed his eyes at his boss. Jeannie just kept shaking her head. "Rudy, what is going on? You act as if the world just caved in!" she told him.

He took a breath before announcing, "Angela Hawkins is dead. On her way to General, the car she was in was, what appears to be anyway, ambushed. The officer driving rear-ended a car and based on what witnesses say, the driver of that car got out and gunned down all three occupants."

Mike's jaw dropped and Jeannie let out a slight gasp.

"Someone...killed two officers...and Angela?" was all Mike could spit out. "They...they didn't take her with?"

Shaking his head, Rudy said, "Nope, and we have no idea who this shooter is either. Witness descriptions are all over the place."

Looking straight into Mike's eyes, he asked, "You said three men were holding and torturing Steve, correct?"

"Yeah. Angela's two sons and some other kid. About 25, 30 maybe. They never said his name."

Rudy walked to the room phone. "And we've only got one of the sons in the morgue...and you out free…"

"What are you getting at, Rudy? If Angela's dead, then the target is off me," Mike argued, never releasing his hold on the hand of his unconscious partner.

"With two others who were part of this out there wandering around? I hardly think so, Mike. No, I'm getting an officer down here to stand guard at that door." He picked up the receiver and dialed an outside line.

"They were just doing Angela's bidding. They're not after me; they'll be too busy mourning her death to care about me."

"I don't know, Mike… I agree with Rudy. I bet they wanted revenge just as much as she did." Pulling a chair close to Steve's bed, opposite from her father, Jeannie sat down and took ahold of Steve's other hand.

"Listen to your daughter," Rudy barked before shouting out orders into the phone. When he hung up, he looked around for a third chair.

"I thought you were leaving?" Mike asked.

"Not until an officer gets down here. Shouldn't be too long anyway. I'm sure the scene will be fine without me for a bit. Why isn't there another chair in here?"

"Because you have work to do. I think I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself," Mike shot back. "I am still a cop, you know."

"I know that," Rudy grumbled, "But I'm not taking any chances, not after what they did to him." He pointed at Steve's motionless body.

A nurse quickly peeked her head in the door. "Captain? They called again to ask if you'd left yet. He seemed pretty upset when I told him you were still here." She shrugged her shoulders slightly and disappeared.

"See? Go. We'll be fine. Who's going to chance sneaking into an ICU anyway? Not those guys. I don't think they'd know what to do without Angela telling them."

"Are you armed?" Rudy blurted out.

"No. Do I need to be? We'll be fine! Get out of here." Mike barked back.

Looking at his watch, Rudy sighed and relented. "Fine. Someone should be here in no more than 10 minutes anyway. Don't you let your guard down, you hear?"

"I know, I know. Go!" Mike turned back to Steve as Rudy bolted from the room.

Jeannie took a deep breath.

"What, you don't believe me either?" Mike asked, looking over at her.

She shook her head. "No! I trust you completely! I'm just...worried, that's all."

"Mmm hmm." He looked back at Steve.

Jeannie, tears beginning to fall from her eyes, let go of Steve's hand and started digging through her purse.

"It's over now. Someone just made sure of that. Who or why, I don't know. But they'll find him." He paused before angrily muttering, "Did he have to kill two officers though?"

Both stopped when they heard the distinct creak of a dry door hinge.

"Collateral damage. It happens to the best of men."

Mike knew the source of the voice without even turning around. Jeannie, on the other hand, didn't realize she should be very afraid until she saw the glint from the hallway lights as they shown off the barrel of the gun.

"Mike…" she gasped, losing her voice in the back of her throat.

Slowly but deliberately, Mike turned and faced one of his captors.

"Hi there, Lieutenant. Nice to see you again."


	22. Chapter 22

"Hi there, Lieutenant. Nice to see you again," Stephen said, his voice deep and menacing.

Slowly rising to his feet, Mike put up his hands as if he were surrendering. "Now, son...don't do anything regrettable."

"Too late for that. Much too late." The younger man looked around the room and, upon spotting a chair, dragged it over to the door and propped it against the handle. Never once did he even look at what he was doing; his eyes were trained on Mike the entire time.

He decided he could afford a quick glance down at his work. "Eh, it'll do," he muttered, looking back to Mike before sitting in the chair for the extra weight. "You can sit, you know."

Mike slowly let his body fall into the chair. He looked over at Jeannie and found her brow furrowed, but she looked calmer than he felt. She did have a fairly tight grip on Steve's left hand though.

"Look," he said, letting his gaze slowly drift back to their captor, "let her go. You don't need her; it's me you're mad at."

"I won't say a word," Jeannie squeaked.

"Right. Like I believe that. I stopped believing anyone years ago. First my father, then my mother...soon enough, I came to realize that no one is honest. I guess that's why law suits me; it's full of liars. I feel right at home."

Finding that he didn't quite know how to respond to that, Mike instead stuck with his cop mentality. "What is it you want? What your mother was after? That's not going to…"

A fire ignited, and the gun-toting man exploded. "No that's not what I want! That's never what I wanted!"

Both Mike and Jeannie leaned back a little in their chairs as if the slight adjustment in position would protect them from gunfire.

Tightening his grip on the handgun, Stephen aimed it back at Mike after letting it fall slightly. "I never wanted any of this," he growled.

"You never wanted what?" Mike asked in a hoarse whisper.

"A liar for a father...a nutcase for a mother...this whole stinking plan…" As he spoke, he waved the gun around haphazardly.

"You...you didn't like the plan?" Mike asked, his voice a bit stronger, though he wasn't sure of the meaning behind Stephen's statement.

"No, I didn't like the plan!" Stephen hissed as he swung the gun back and trained it on Mike.

"But you went along with it anyway," Jeannie whispered. "Why?"

"Yeah, I went along with it, like I had a choice...like any of us really had a choice." He laughed softly as he slowly shook his head. "We learned years ago not to argue with her; it was better just to shut our mouths and do what she says… said. _She_ decided that we wanted revenge, but she was the only one who wanted revenge for a dead man - a cop - who deliberately and knowingly broke the law. And why did he do it? Not because of the reason she claimed he did it - so he could support his struggling 'family'. Not even because he wanted to make our lives more comfortable. Hell no...he broke the law and accepted bribes because he was greedy. She forgot I was old enough to understand the whispered conversations between them and the way they would laugh when he would show her the envelopes of money."

He paused a minute and swallowed hard, blinking as he looked up at Mike, a tear slowly rolled down his cheek. "She wanted to make you suffer for taking away their good times, the money that was rolling in each week…she blamed you for it all ending…for not turning a blind eye… And what did her revenge get her? Well, it didn't get her your money or your house like she thought - just like I told her it wouldn't - nor did it ruin your career or send you to jail. But it did get David killed, and Tommy and I are now on the run."

He paused a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. He cocked his head slightly to the side, his eyes shining brightly with insane pride as he looked across at Jeannie and added, "She's dead now, did you know? She wanted her revenge and I wanted mine…"

His smile grew wider. "I guess my plan of revenge was better thought out than hers. Her plan failed while mine succeeded." He sighed as his eyes drifted to Steve in the bed. He then looked back up and allowed his eyes to flicker between Jeannie and Mike. "But now I have to clean up the mess she left behind."

"What do you mean, son?" Mike asked cautiously, watching the agitated young man closely.

"She made sure that he saw me," Stephen whispered, shifting the aim of his gun to the young inspector in the bed. "That way she knew that I would have to do exactly what she said. So, you see I didn't have a choice. And now he can…"

Stephen jumped as he suddenly felt someone push at the door and heard the voice of young officer who was guarding the door call out, "Is everything alright in there? Why is the door locked?"

Jeannie gasped as she looked, white-faced, at Mike before she looked terrified at Stephen, who had turned the gun in Mike's direction, his finger tightening on the trigger. The door shook harder and they heard the officer order, "Open this door!"

"You're gonna have to let him in, or he'll force his way in here!" Mike warned in a tone low enough that the man outside couldn't hear.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? See me go to jail just like my old man!"

Both Mike and Jeannie quickly shook their heads. "No, no...we just need time to work this out. And I have a feeling that that won't happen if he doesn't come in here and check on us," Mike explained.

Stephen quickly scanned the room for a place to hide but since he was in the ICU, the room had nothing.

"Open this door this instant!" the cop shouted again, adding a few pushes to the door.

Seeing what he was attempting, Mike warned him again. "There's really no place to hide."

"Well, I'm not getting hauled out of here in handcuffs!" Stephen gave a final glare to Mike and the cop, putting his whole body into it, forced open the door. Falling forward, Stephen tripped along the bare floor toward the window, his finger resting precariously on the trigger.

Anticipating trouble, the uniformed officer already had his gun drawn. He quickly noticed Mike and Jeannie next to the bed in his peripheral vision, but saw Stephen - and his gun - clear as day.

When the silence of the ward was broken in a split second by a piercing scream and a loud pop, the entire floor stopped breathing.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by JoanWilder, Traw

 

Jeannie stood with her hands over her mouth and never once blinked. The young officer stood still as a statue for what seemed like days until his limp body gave into gravity and he fell to the floor in a lump, the grip he had on his gun releasing. The metal object fell to the hard floor with a clank. Mike, who had tried to keep his eye on the officer’s gun, set his gaze upon the man now writhing on the floor, blood spurting out his shoulder, his gun laying by his feet.

Shaking, Jeannie fell backward onto the chair while her father looked up and saw Stephen, now in control of his body, standing near the window, his gun still raised.

It was not unlike several scenes of perp vs. cop he had seen in his career, but there was something oddly and unmistakably different about this one. The perp, instead of looking proudly at what he had accomplished, looked stunned.

Stephen slowly let the word “shit” slip from his lips. Mike knew right then that nothing was going according to plan for the young man. He also knew that usually meant two things - either this would be an easy surrender, or Stephen would lose control and more would end up wounded. As his mind raced to think of things to say, his heart prayed for the latter.

“I...I didn’t mean for that…” Stephen announced, his voice shaky.

“I know you didn’t,” Mike replied as calmly as he could. “Things just haven’t been working out for you, have they?”

Not taking his eyes off the cop on the floor, who was now writhing in pain and holding his increasingly red shoulder, Stephen shook his head. “Not really.”

Noticing that the stream of blood pouring from the cop’s shoulder was heavier than he anticipated, Mike looked straight at Stephen and said, “You don’t want anyone else to die today, do you?”

“Hmm?” Stephen uttered without looking at Mike or lowering his gun.

“You don’t want anyone else to die, do you? That was never your intention, was it? For Steve to die?”

“Steve? Inspector Keller? No. That was all her idea. I did kill _her_  though. Well, I didn’t, Tommy did, but...you know what I mean!” he shouted, startling an already tense Jeannie.

“Yeah...yeah, I do. And why did you have her killed?”

“Why? You’re asking me why?!” Stephen finally dropped his arms and looked at Mike. “It should be obvious why! She was insane! She was a terrible mother and she treated me and my brother like shit! She and Dad both did! You should have seen her in court and in front of all the cops, acting all sad and grieving for David. Like she cared! All she cared about was the money. So what if you lose a kid along the way?!”

With a hand held out toward the man on the floor who was clearly going in and out of consciousness, Mike said, “That’s understandable. But this young man didn’t do anything to you. So why don’t you let my daughter take him out of here and get him the help he needs. How does that sound?”

Mike did not expect an immediate response, but he expected something quicker than he got. Two minutes or more later, after watching Stephen look frantically back and forth between himself, Jeannie, the cop, and the door, Mike finally added, “Sound like a plan?”

“She’ll bring in the cops,” he muttered, sounding paranoid. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t go to prison! They would all know I’m his son! They’ll kill me!”

“Who will kill you?” Jeannie squeaked, finding her voice somewhere in her stomach.

“The same people who killed my father! Sure, I’m not a cop, and I’m not a prosecutor, but that doesn’t matter! I’m still a cop’s kid, and they’ll make sure I know it!”

“Now, we don’t know what will happen once we leave this room, so don’t even think about that!” Mike told him. “You know how things often go in court; cases get tied up for years and people often get sentenced with much less than life in prison. There’s no saying what would happen to you, but I do know what will happen to him if we don’t get him out of here. He will die, and he was just doing his job. Please, let Jeannie take him out of here. She won’t say a word to anyone.”

“Swear. Not a word!” Jeannie peeped.

“Like they won’t know! He’s got a bullet in him!”

“Stephen, I’m pretty sure they have an idea what’s going on in here anyway. Guns are not that quiet, and everyone’s already been on alert about this room anyway. But if you let him out, it will go a long way in your favor. Trust me on that.”

“How so?” Stephen asked, sounding more belligerent than curious.

“A judge and the D.A. will look favorably on you letting hostages free, especially wounded ones.”

“Sure they will,” Stephen huffed.

“I’ve seen it many times,” Mike replied back. “They’ll be much more forgiving than if you let him die.”

Pondering that information, Stephen went back to his routine of looking back and forth between the people and the door. Another two minutes passed before he vigorously shook his head and said, “No! No one leaves!”

Taking a deep breath, Mike looked to his daughter and said to Stephen, “Would you at least consent to having Jeannie put something on the wound to help stop the bleeding?”

This decision came much more quickly. “Fine. Yeah, fine. Whatever.”

“Sweetheart, why don’t you grab something and hold it on his wound, okay?”

Jeannie jumped up and started furiously looking around the room for anything she could find. All she saw was the extra blanket at the foot of Steve’s bed, so she yanked it away from his feet and ran around the foot of the bed, kneeling down and doing her best to hold the large blanket over the officer’s shoulder.

He grimaced loudly as intense pain shot out from the open wound, but Jeannie held her ground, trying to adopt her father’s cool-under-pressure persona.

“I’m sorry, but we have to get this bleeding under control,” she told the man quietly.

Mike, in the meantime, watched Stephen to make sure he would not try anything and hurt Jeannie. Once he was certain Jeannie would be safe with the officer, he looked back up to his captor.

“What can we do to make this better for you?” he asked, still calm.

                                                 -----------------------------------------------------------------

Gently dropping the sheet back over the body of downed officer, which was lying on the road, Rudy sighed as he slowly stood up and stared at the police car that was stopped haphazardly in the middle of the road. The shattered front of the car instantly told Rudy about just how the ambush had began. The officers would have had no chance. What they would have initially believed was just a fender bender that they would have to explain later to their sergeant ended up a bloodbath that had taken both officers by surprise.

Rudy sighed again as he walked slowly across to the open passenger doors of patrol car, forcing himself to look at the shattered driver’s window before his eyes traveled down to the blood splattered sheet that covered the body of the other young patrol officer who was slumped across the front seat, the radio mic dangling next to his hand.

Stepping back, he found himself looking at the shapely legs of a woman hanging limply out the back of the car. A sheet had been placed awkwardly over the body, not quite covering the top of Angela’s head.

“She took two rounds point blank to the chest,” the patrol sergeant told him quietly as the officer stepped around him and leant into the back of the car, carefully lifting up the sheet to allow the Homicide captain to see the bullet wounds and the powder burns that stained the front of her blouse before dropping the sheet back down.  Backing out of the back seat, being careful not to brush against any of the blood splattered evidence, the officer straightened up before he stepped across to the front passenger door and gently lifted the sheet revealing the remains of the young officer, “Simones took a round to the head; he never had a chance.”

Rudy winced as he stared at the body of the young man who looked like he should have been still in high school rather than lying dead in the front of a patrol car. Glancing down at the gun half pulled out of the officer’s holster, he frowned. “He didn’t even have time to draw his gun or defend himself.”

The sergeant swallowed hard and nodded his agreement as he turned back towards the body of the other young patrol officer lying in the middle of the road, “Neither of them did. Samuel’s revolver is still clipped in his holster. He was shot point blank in the chest. He was probably dead before he even hit the ground.”

Rudy nodded as he ran a hand over his thinning hair. It was always hard when an officer was killed in the line of duty, but to see two young officers gunned down so brutally in the street, with no chance to defend themselves, was heartbreaking and left him feeling physically ill. He wanted to catch these bastards fast. And once they were caught, he really wanted to have just five minutes alone with them, not only for the two young men who were killed just doing their duty but also for what they had put Mike and Steve through. His hands curled into tight fists as he tried to control the white-hot rage that threatened to overwhelm him as he turned and looked back at the patrol car before he looked towards the small crowd of onlookers standing behind the police tape who were watching their every move. “Any witnesses?” he asked a little more gruffly then he meant to.

“You know how it is, Rudy, no one saw anything or at least nothing they are going to admit to. They don’t want to get involved,” the sergeant answered with a sigh as he looked in disgust across at the crowd before he returned his attention back to the scene. “So do you think it was a hit?”

“Yeah, and a well-planned one.” Rudy nodded as he turned and walked across to where the police photographer was taking photos of a pair of skid marks in front of the damaged patrol car. “They had to have known when we were transferring Hawkins to the psych ward and what route the officers would have been taking.” Rudy frowned as he looked back at the pair of legs hanging out of the back seat of the car as he added almost as if he was speaking to himself, “I just don’t understand why they decided to make it a hit and not an escape…”

“Captain…” Turning as Lee Lessing ducked under the tape and hurried towards him, Rudy’s chest tightened as he saw the anxious and upset look on his inspector’s face.  Lee reached him and announced breathlessly, “Headquarters just radioed, they need you back at the hospital. There’s reports of a possible hostage situation in Steve’s room. The nurses are reporting that the door to Steve’s room is barricaded from within and they have heard one, possibly even two gun shots coming from within the room.”


	24. Chapter 24

Stepping out of the elevator, Rudy was not surprised to find the ICU a hive of activity as nurses hurriedly wheeled the patients out of the two rooms adjacent to Steve’s room as uniformed officers took up strategic positions within the unit. Hurrying into the unit, Rudy headed directly to the nurse’s station where several SWAT officers were already huddled around the desk, studying the ICU floor plan as they waited for the hospital administration to send up the building’s structural plans.

“What have we got, Harvey?” Rudy asked as he reached the small elite group.

“Looks like a hostage situation in your boy’s room, Rudy.” Harvey Donaldson answered, not looking up as he tapped the square representing Steve’s ICU room on the plan on the desk in front of him. “Not sure how many hostages or how many hostage takers are in the room yet, or even what the hostage takers demands are, but what we do know is the door has been barricaded from the inside and the staff heard two gunshots from within.”

“I know that there’s going to be at least three hostages in there,” Rudy answered as he glanced towards the closed door before he looked back at the lead SWAT officer, “Keller, Stone and Stone’s daughter.”

“Stone? Mike Stone?” Donaldson asked.

Rudy nodded.

“Is he armed?”

“No, there was supposed to be an officer guarding the door,” Rudy answered slowly, looking across at the door before he frowned and looked around at all the uniformed officers as he frowned, “Officer Manning should have been here by now… but I don’t see him.”

“So you're telling us that we may we have four hostages inside a room where there is only one way out and one way in…Just what the Hell is going on Rudy?” the SWAT Captain snapped.

“Stone and Keller were kidnapped, and we managed to rescue them yesterday but not before Keller was critically injured at the hands of their kidnappers. One of the kidnappers was caught, a second one was killed during Stone’s rescue.” Rudy swallowed hard as he looked back at the barricaded door, “But she was killed, along with the two officers who were transferring her to a secure psych unit in an ambush less than an hour ago…and we have at least two more on the run.”

“Well, it looks like whoever we have in there is here to clean up the mess with the intention of leaving no witnesses behind who could could possibly identify them.”

“And Manning has probably walked in on it.” Rudy sighed, trying to ignore the guilt of leaving Mike and Steve unprotected for those few minutes before Manning arrived as he looked back at Donaldson and the rest of the SWAT team."Which means our hostage taker probably has at least two guns now."

 Donaldson grunted his agreement as he turned and grabbed the walkie talkie,laying on the table before he looked back at Rudy and explained, "I've sent one of my guys onto one of the roofs of the other building that overlooks the ICU. Let's see if he's in position yet and has a visual of just what we are dealing with and what the hell is going on in that room!"

* * *

 Mike waited for the young man to answer, watching him closely, before he asked again, "Come on, son, tell me what you want, so we can resolve this and everyone can get out of this room safely.

“What do I want? I want out of here. I have to get out of here...out of this,” Stephen answered.

“That’s understandable,” Mike replied calmly.

Still holding his gun, Stephen started to pace the room. Mike watched him walk back and forth between the window and the door, placing his hands on the sides of his head and making grimacing faces. While standing at the door with his ear to it, Stephen finally said, “Chopper.”

 “Chopper?” Mike inquired.

 “Yeah, on the roof. And a private plane. One that will get me to some island. Guam, Fiji. Hell, Hawaii for all I care.”

 Mike knew that would never happen or it would result in a shootout on the roof, and he wanted no part of anyone else dying today. “I don’t think…”

Stephen immediately held the gun on Jeannie, who was too busy concentrating on Officer Manning to notice. “Chopper, now!” he demanded.

 “Mike, he’s lost consciousness. I think the bullet hit an artery; there’s too much blood!” Jeannie announced in a panic.

Knowing if he didn’t get this resolved immediately, Officer Manning would certainly die, Mike held out his hand to Stephen. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what we can do.”

Turning back to Mike, Stephen eyed him with open suspicion, as he asked, “How?”

Tilting his head towards the phone on the bedside table that had a direct line to the nurse’s desk, Mike smiled warmly, “How about we start with a phone call to tell everyone out there your demands?”


End file.
